Honest Deceit
by Harriet Vane
Summary: When Robin takes of his mask, the wrong person gets a glimpse of who he really is.
1. Prolog

**Note: **This story would have to happen between Aftershock and Deception. The Characters aren't mine, they belong to D.C. comics. So if you're wondering why it's set in San Francisco, or who the heck Mr. Haly ask your local comic merchant.

**Prolog: **

"You are all Bourgeoisie Swine!" the insane woman with the spiky hair yelled. She was wearing an artist smock and what looked like a pressurized canister of something strapped to her back with a hose that lead to a nasty looking gun, which she pointed at the hostage art critics indiscriminately. "I spit on you and your abysmal taste!" She shot a glob of purple goo out of her gun, hitting a blown up photograph of a daffodil.

"Now, see here Alica!" A thin man dressed all in black said, taking a nervous step forward. "Just because you piece was not selected for display doesn't mean . . ."

"If you are not going to recognize true art when you see it, you don't deserve to see anything at all!" The mad woman said, firing her gun at him and covering his face. The man staggered backwards, screaming. He tried to pull the goop off of his face, but it wouldn't budge. The crowd of people still trapped in the gallery watched, horrified. "And just for the Record," The woman yelled, "The name is Known Alica!"

"Known Alica?" a voice asked from behind her. The arch villainess swung around and saw the five people she wanted to see the least, the Teen Titans, standing heroically in the door way, looking at her like she was already defeated. "What kind of name is that?" Beast Boy continued.

"Like Mona Lisa," Raven explained.

"That's got to be the lamest name ever," Cyborg groaned.

"Put the paint can down Alica," Robin yelled, "before we have to put you down."

"You may not know art," Alica replied. "But I know what you don't like!" She pulled up her paint-gun and shot a purple blob right in Robin's face. He stumbled backwards. His teammates didn't need to hear his attack orders; they sprung forward viciously. Beast Boy turned into a ram and charged, but was subdued by purple goop long before he reached Known Alica. The force of the goop sent him crashing into a sculpture, which fell on him in a sticky mess. No matter what animal he tried to be, snake, mouse, bird, Tyrannosaurus Rex, he couldn't get free of the goop.

"Azarath Metrion . . ." Raven started to say, but on shot of purple goop shut her up.

"Please desist!" Starfire said, as she started flying towards Alica from one direction while Cyborg ran at her from another. "We do not wish to harm you!"

"Just to incarcerate me, is that it?" Alica asked, firing her gun at Starfire, who managed to burn away the goop with her starbeams. Cyborg tackled Alica from behind, only to trigger a booby trap, built into her paint can. Purple goop sprayed right into his face, covering his eyes. As he stumbled back with surprise, Alica turned and fired on him twice more, covering him with goop.

"Ugh!" Cyborg screamed. "I can't see, and my sensors are jammed!"

"Fear not!" Starfire yelled. "I will . . ." but she never got a chance to say what she would do, because at that moment, Alica covered her face with purple goop and continued to fire at her until the young alien was pined to the wall in a purple mess.

"Now," Alica said with a sigh. "Where was I?"

The terrified crowd looked on in horror. No one said a thing.

"That's right!" Alica said. "You were all going to pay me for the honor of watching me create my new masterpiece _Fallen Titans_."

Still, no one in the crowd moved.

"Come on, don't be shy," Alice said chipperly. "I know people can be intimidated in front of such talent, but great art cannot happen without the support of patrons like you."

"Which is exactly why they should save their money for great artists," the strong and defiant voice of Robin said. "And not give it to talent-less hacks like you."

"Talent-less!" Alice screamed, turning quickly to find Robin. But he wasn't where she'd left him. She spun around the room, looking desperately for the remaining titan. "Where is he?!" She screamed. "Where is that ignorant, tasteless, freak?"

"I'm right here," Robin said as he dropped down from the ceiling and landed on her shoulders, sending her crashing to the ground. Her suit squirted out more purple goop to counter his attack, but he spun out of the way in time. She rolled over to shoot at him, but he dogged, flipping six feet in the air over her head and landing behind her before the evil artist could react. With a movement so quick no one saw it, Robin threw a red bird at the tank she had strapped to her back. A high-pitched hiss filled the room.

"Take cover everyone!" he yelled as he jumped back up onto the rafters overhead. A second latter there was an earsplitting boom as the canister exploded and purple goop flew everywhere. The patrons of the arts were covered in purple slop, there was screaming and crying. Beast Boy groaned loudly, "Not again!" and Cyborg said "Awww, I'm never gonna get this stuff off!"

Robin ignored all the innocents' protests. His mind was on one thing: Known Alica. He fell from the rafters where he'd taken cover. He was the cleanest figure in the room. Only his face was covered in purple goop, and even then, not all of it. He'd taken his mask off, so he could see, and his bright blue eyes were blazing.

"Now, I could probably come up with a chemical to break this stuff up," Robin said, approaching Known Alisa threateningly. "But that could take some time, and I don't think you want to be stuck here that long."

"Lemon Juice!" Known Alica wailed.

"You're kidding," Robin said.

"No, no," Known Alica said. "I made it so that the acidic properties of Lemon juice would break down the compound."

"Why lemon juice?"

"I had one of those bottles," the woman explained. "And I wasn't going to use it otherwise . . ."

Robin stared at her, bewildered. After a minute, he said. "I've seen a lot of wackos, but in a crazy contest, you take fist place."

"Ah!" Starfire said as the hazmat unit sprayed her with lemon juice. "It is so wonderful to be free of the oppressive purple ooze! Thank you!"

The officers muttered your welcome as she floated down from her place on the wall. It was wonderful to be free. It had taken Robin and the authorities in San Francisco quite a while to procure such a large amount of lemon juice. But her friend was nothing if not resourceful, resourceful and determined. As she floated down from the ceiling, forcing herself not to fly as quickly as she could around the room singing the Glardack song of irrepressible joy, she noticed that the men who'd helped her were moving on to Raven, and that Beast Boy and Cyborg were still trapped. On the other side of the room another Hazmat team was freeing the civilians. It was a long and sticky process, but, not nearly as sticky as the goop it was removing.

Starfire thought for a moment about trying to help, but before she could, a familiar voice called her. "Star, come here."

The young alien looked around, bewildered. She could not figure out where the voice was coming from. "Robin?"

"Look up," Robin whispered harshly.

Star obeyed and found herself looking up into the depths of shadowy rafters. Robin's silhouette was near the top. Curious, but without fear, Starfier hovered up to him.

"What are we doing hiding in the ceiling?" the girl whispered. "Should we not help?"

"They've got it under control," Robin said. "But you can help me."

"What do you require?"

"My mask."

Starfire looked at him and gasped. He looked different. That part of him which she had always assumed were his eyes, milky white with a sharp black outline, was gone. In its stead were normal human eyes. Well, not quite normal. They were a brilliant blue, like the sky on a perfectly sunny day, but with a sharpness to them that was all intelligence and cunning. His eyes didn't frighten her, she knew she didn't need to fear him, but they were powerful eyes, they eyes of someone she did not want to fight.

"You wear a mask?" She said slowly, still reeling from the deep color of his remarkable eyes.

"Yeah," Robin said quickly. "And I don't want to go down there without it."

"But, why not?" Star asked. "You're eyes are quite nice to look at."

"Ah," Robin said, "Thanks, but . . ."

"They are the color of a perfect summer's day, with a bright sun and a strong wind, and . . ."

"Starfire," Robin said forcefully. "I'm glad you like my eyes, but I need my mask."

"Why?"

"It protects me," he answered. "Star, please."

She'd never seen him like this, hiding, almost frightened. She started to feel frightened herself.

"I had to take it off so I could see to fight Alicia," Robin continued, not noticing, or perhaps, choosing to ignore, how unsettled she was. "It should be down their somewhere. If you could find it, and see that it gets cleaned off . . ."

"I shall do as you ask, because I am you're friend," Starfire said. "But I want you to know, I like seeing your eyes."

Robin smiled at her in that way that only he could, in that way that made its way into his voice and, she saw now, into his eyes. That way that made her feel like flying. "Thanks Star."

She glided down to find the mask, and discovered that Raven had been freed from her prohibitive purple goop, and was once again able to speak.

"I am glad to see you are free," Starfire said as she floated down from the rafters.

"Me too," Raven grumbled.

"Perhaps you may assist me in my task."

"What task is that?"

"Robin has lost his mask," Starfire explained. "He wishes for us to find it and return it to him so that he may cover his beautiful blue eyes."

"I saw him take it off over here," Raven said, walking towards the door through which the Titans had entered.

"You do not seem surprised to learn that he wears a mask," Starfire noted as she followed her friend.

"Star, he wears it all the time."

"You did not think those were his eyes?"

"No."

Raven knelt down on the floor and muttered, "Azerath Metrion Zynthos." A thin black field of magic surrounded her hands, fitting them as snuggly as gloves. She started feeling through the purple goop for Robin's mask.

"Raven," Starfire said after a moment.

"Yes," Raven answered, sounding annoyed.

"Robin said his mask protected him."

Raven didn't respond. After a moment, Starfire continued. "Do you think that is true?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"How can a mask protect someone? It is a device used to hide, conceal and deceive."

"Sometimes, you have to hide and conceal things to protect them," Raven said, pulling the mask out of a purple blob. "We'll need to get this washed before we give it to him," she said calmly, standing up and heading towards the HAZMAT team, which was hosing Cyborg down with lemon juice.

"But the deception?" Starfire continued. "How can a lie protect something?"

Raven paused and turned to look the naive alien in the eyes. "Not all deceptions are lies, and some things are worth lying to protect."

Starfire's burnt orange skin turned peachish, and her emerald green eyes grew wide. "Do you think Robin has lied to us?"

"No," Raven said solidly as she picked up a bottle of lemon juice that was sitting on a nearby table and pored some of its contents onto the mask. The purple goop dissolved quickly and Raven used a black-magical towel to wipe of the residue. She held the mask out to Starfire. "You can take it back to him now."

"Do you not wish to see him without his mask off?" Starfire asked, surprised.

"If he wanted me to see him with his mask off, he'd probably have shown me by now," Raven answered flatly.

"All right," Starfire said, taking the mask. She floated up to where Robin was hiding. Though it was only a matter of 12 feet, it was a difficult flight. She was weighed down by worries about what Robin was hiding. She didn't understand why he wouldn't want to use his powerful eyes as another weapon in his arsenal and she couldn't imagine what the small mask in her hand could protect that Robin's innate resourcefulness and dedication and strength left vulnerable.

**To Be Continued . . .**


	2. What's in a name

**Note: **Thanks for all the feed back! However, I would like to remind everyone that most everything in these stories (down to the color in Robin's eyes) is from the comics, and what's not from the comics is from Batman the Animated Series – good stuff, all.

**Chapter 1: What's in a name**

It was Tuesday afternoon, which only meant one thing.

"Grocery shopping," Robin said seriously.

He was standing in front of the TV, notepad in hand, blocking the soap opera Starfire and Beast Boy were watching and Raven and Cyborg were pretending to ignore.

"Dude, can't it wait?" Beast Boy protested. "Holton was just about to propose to Roxanna, or, actually, Rebecca, Roxanna's evil twin, because Roxanna was kidnapped by Gypsies and who are actually mercenaries hired by Roxanna's step father, Gregor, so that he'll inherit her fortune! I gotta see what happens next!"

"Yes, it is quite suspenseful," Starfire agreed. "Could we not wait?"

"We've been putting this off all day," Robin said. "If someone doesn't go to the store, we won't eat tonight."

"We could order out Pizza," Beast Boy suggested.

"Oh, meat-lovers!" Cyborg yelled.

"Veggie!" Beast Boy said.

"Banana Peanut Butter!" Starfire suggested.

"Short-term solution," Robin said dismissively. "Unless, you to drink tap water and eat canned carrots for breakfast . . . "

"But, dude," Beast Boy pleaded. "The show."

"Yes," Starfire said. "I am at the very precipice of my chair!"

"It's just a soap opera," Robin said. "It'll be on again tomorrow and nothing will have happened."

"But, the proposal is happening now!" Starfire said, craning her neck to look over Robin at the drama unfolding behind him.

"Oh, please," Raven said with a sigh of discussed as she closed her book. "Rebecca's going to accept the proposal and their engagement will stretch out for at least a year. Holton will almost find out it's not really Roxanna about a million times, while Roxanna will continue to be held by Gypsies and she'll probably end up pregnant by one. She'll never figure out that Gregor was the one who had her kidnapped even though she overhears him talking to them every single day. When she finally escapes, she'll crash the wedding the second after Holton says 'I do.'" Everyone stared at her, amazed." Unphased, she turned to Robin, "I want plumbs, if there are any ripe ones."

"Right," Robin said after a second. He lifted his pad and wrote down her request. "Ripe plumbs."

As soon as Raven started the list, the others chimed in. Starfire wanted mint jelly, beets, cauliflower and Thai noodles. Cyborg wanted hamburgers, hot-dogs, lunch meat, and beef jerky. Beast boy wanted veggie-burgers, tofu, not-wurst, soy milk and bean sprouts. Raven just wanted plumbs, and only if they were ripe.

"All right," Robin said, skimming the list. "I'm gonna add, milk, orange juice, bread, butter, coffee, sugar, cooking oil, vegetables, frozen or canned, and, ah, anything else that catches my eye."

"Dude, you're grocery list always sounds like a grown ups," Beast Boy said, shaking his head sadly.

"This coming from the guy who wanted bean-sprouts," Cyborg scoffed.

"Bean sprouts are the food of the future," Beast Boy responded with total confidence. "If you're not on the wagon, you'll be left behind."

"This list is pretty long," Robin said, ignoring his friends banter. "Cyborg, will you drive?"

"Sure, but we're strapping the bean-spouts on the top."

"You do and you--" Beast Boy started. But he was interrupted by Starfire's loud gasp.

"No!"

"Star, what is it?!" Robin asked urgently.

"Rebecca has accepted Holton's proposal!" Starfire exclaimed.

"No way!" Beast Boy said, forgetting about his bean sprouts and turning to the soap opera where a thin girl with an angular face was smiling wickedly as overdramatic music played in the background. The show cut to commercial.

"Raven," Starfire said seriously, turning to the other girl. "How did you know this would occur?"

Raven meet Starfire's gaze for a second, then turned to look at Robin, "Can I come too?" she asked.

"Sure," he said. "Let's get going."

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Robin had connections. It never occurred to anyone to wonder how or why he was so well connected. It seemed natural, almost as if it were a part of his powers - like the way Raven floated when she meditated and Cyborg's ability to pug into, and hack, any computer.

Robin instructed Cyborg to drive into new china town in the Richmond district and park in an alleyway off of 19th street, near California, behind a small, family owned, grocers. Robin got out of the car confidently and rang a doorbell next to the service entrance.

"Do you always come here for groceries?" Raven asked.

"Yeah," Robin answered.

"I'm not to hot on this neighborhood," Cyborg said. "Couldn't we try some uptown store sometime?"

"No," Robin said, without explanation.

Before Cyborg could protest, the door opened by a young black man wearing a green apron. "Can I help -" he started, but once he saw Robin in the doorway, his demeanor changed. He seemed suddenly overjoyed; as if Robin were his long-lost best friend and they were being reunited after many years. "Hey! Robin! Saw you on the news, man, like, every night. You keep busy, don't you?"

"Hey Thomas," Robin responded warmly, "just doing our job."

"Man, Gramp's will be so glad to see you! Every night, when he sees you on the news, he gets really freaked out, you know, like the story's gonna end with you guys getting killed or something. I tried to explain that if that happened, they wouldn't just show it on the ten o'clock news, you know, they'd break into prime-time for a story like that. But you know how old men worry."

"You can tell him, we're doing great. A little hungry, though."

"'Course, yeah," Thomas said, hitting his forehead with the heel of his hand. "You got a list?"

Robin held it out.

"I'll get on this," he said. "And if there ain't nobody in the store, I'll send the old-man back. He'll be so happy to see you."

"Thanks Thomas," Robin said.

The boy disappeared back into the grocery store, leaving Robin, Cyborg and Raven alone in the alley.

"Dude," Cyborg said, glaring at the windows of the apartment building on the other side of the alley, looking for people who might think about scratching his car. "Why do we always have to come here?"

"Because Mr. Hooper is a nice guy," Robin said. "Come on, Cyborg, support you're neighborhood businessman."

"This ain't my neighborhood."

"Where did you meet Mr. Hooper?" Raven asked.

"Gotham," Robin said. "It's a long story."

"We had a long list," Cyborg said. "We got time."

"All right," Robin said, as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, about two years ago, Mr. Hooper had a shop, a lot like this one, in Gotham on a run-down, low rent street called Park Row. A Gotham Business leader named Rolan Dagget wanted to redevelop the place, but in doing so, he would muscle out all the current residents, most of whom were too poor to go anywhere else."

"So he came to San Francisco?" Cyborg asked.

"Well, that's how the story ends," Robin said.

"What happens in the middle?" Raven asked.

"Some detective work, a runaway trolley, and a lot of explosions."

"That sounds like most of your stories," Cyborg said.

"I could tell you one about an elephant named Tilly if you like," Robin offered. "No explosions or detective work, just a lot of peanuts."

"Maybe another time," Cyborg said.

"Was Tilly a part of the Haly Brother's Circus?" a harsh voice said from behind a dumpster. In less time than it took most people to breath, Robin had jumped over the car, onto the dumpster, and pulled a thin, wiry man out from his hiding place. He threw the man onto the lid of the dumpster, with a loud thud, and kneeled on his chest. Even though he was a good 6 inches taller than Robin, he was clearly no match to the boy, physically. He didn't bother to struggle or get away, he stayed still and trusted that the young hero wouldn't overly abuse an unarmed, apparently unthreatening, man.

"Who are you?!" Robin demanded, with more violence than seemed absolutely necessary.

"I'm a photojournalist," the man said. He looked like a reporter, wearing jeans, a white t-shirt and a tweed sports coat. He was white, with watery brown eyes covered in thick glasses, thinning blond hair, and a nasally voice. "I was going to do a story on you."

"Were you?" Robin asked between gritted teeth.

"Hey, hey," Cyborg said, grabbing Robins shoulder and trying to pull him off the unarmed journalist. Robin didn't budge. "You can get put in prison for assaulting the paparazzi, happens to celebs all the time."

"I'm not paparazzi," the man said. "I'm a photographer, free-lance, and I've got a great story."

"What kind of story?" Raven asked, stepping closer to the confrontation.

The photographer laughed nervously, "You'll find out when it's published." He turned and looked at Robin, adding, "_if_ it's published."

"What do you want?" Robin asked.

"Even a writer has to eat, you know?" the photographer answered, "gotta make a living somehow."

Robin didn't say anything, but if looks could kill, the Boy Wonder would have committed murder at that moment.

"Look, I can see you have questions, but this isn't the time and place, now, is it?"

"No," Robin said, releasing his grip on the photographer's sports jacket and standing up.

The photographer sat up slowly, his eyes on Robin. "I'm gonna put my hands in my pocket," he said. "I'm not going for a gun or anything, I'm just gonna pull out one of my cards."

"I already have one of your cards," Robin said, displaying the small business card he'd palmed. "And, if you'd had a gun, you wouldn't anymore."

The photographer laughed, "I see why they started calling you the Boy Wonder." He scooted to the edge of the dumpster and slid off it awkwardly. He obviously wasn't a man used to any type of physical activity more complicated than walking. "Thanks, kids," he said as he backed out of the alley. "It was a thrill to meet you all in person." He pointed to Robin, who was still perched atop the dumpster, "I'm sure I'll be hearing from you soon."

Robin didn't answer. The photographer slipped around the corner and disappeared.

"That was kinda weird," Cyborg commented. Turning to Robin, he said, "Mind if I ask you why you were so freaked out?"

"Yes," Robin said tersely. He stepped backwards, to the edge of the dumpster, and jumped, flipping backwards and landing solidly and gracefully on his feet.

"And he lands the dismount!" Thomas's voice said, accompanied with a small round of applause. Robin, Cyborg and Raven all turned to see Thomas and Mr. Hooper standing in the doorway with several boxes of groceries on the ground.

"Was that man botherin' you?" Mr. Hooper asked Robin. The old man looked almost as angry as Robin himself.

"Do you know him?" Robin asked.

"I've seen him around," Hooper said. "If he was botherin' you, I'll see too it that he never comes near this store again. We don't serve no one who ain't your friend."

"I appreciate the sentiment," Robin said. He was looking down the alley, to where the photographer had disappeared. "Let me know if he shows up again."

"You bet," Thomas said. "We'll keep our eyes open."

"Thanks," Robin said, as he picked up a grocery box. Cyborg opened the trunk of his car for Robin to put the box in. Thomas carried a box over as well, while Raven picked up the rest with her magic and levitated them to the car.

"After all you've done, it's our pleasure," Mr. Hooper said. "You just take care of yourself."

"Will do," Robin said as he closed the trunk. "I'll see you next week."

"Always a pleasure," Mr. Hooper said as Robin, Raven and Cyborg got into the car.

"Shouldn't we pay?" Raven asked.

"It's taken care of," Robin said. His voice was distant and cold, he was obviously still thinking about that photographer.

They drove for a while in silence. Robin starred at the business card he'd taken. It had a name, Emil Cook, an address, C 2300 Clement Street, only four blocks away from Mr. Hopper's Grocry store, and a phone number, 415-355-2687, Robin was pretty sure that was a cell number. The man wasn't from San Francisco originally, he had an east coast accent - Not sharp enough to be from New York, or any of it's burrows, nor strong enough to be from Boston or Philadelphia , nor slack enough to be from Metropolis or any place further north - It was a Gotham accent. Mr. Cook had probably grown up on the northeast side, near the wharf.

"So, Robin," Cyborg said, trying to sound confident as he broke the silence, instead, he just sounded intrusive. "Why'd you go all psycho on that guy?"

"He was spying on us," Robin said.

"He's a reporter, that's what they do."

"No," Robin said. "He's not a reporter."

"What is he then?"

Robin didn't answer.

"Robin?" Cyborg prompted. "You know, it's rude to ignore a question."

"I know," Robin answered.

Cyborg waited, but the boy wonder didn't say anything more.

"Ooooh-kaaaaay," Cyborg said, sucking a breath in between his teeth. "I guess you're just going to be rude then."

"Guess so," Robin answered. No one said anything for the rest of the ride home.

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Raven went to her room at ten thirty, after the news. Starfire and Cyborg stayed up to watch the monolog on the late night show, but upon seeing the guests were a boring author and an old actor neither of them liked, they went off to bed. Beast Boy stayed up to watch the Midnight-Horror-Freak-Show. No one noticed when Robin slipped off around eleven-twenty.

San Francisco is not a town that never sleeps. In the tourist districts, like the Fisherman's Warf and Pier 39, there was action to the wee-hours. But the Richmond neighborhood closed around ten, when its average, working class, citizens went to bed. Only a few people were on the street, and none of them noticed a boy running across the rooftops. No one seemed to see him open the top window of 2300 Clement St. and crawl into a run-down flat in the attic of a run-down row house. No one was home, which was fortunate for Robin. He now had the time he needed to discover what, exactly, Emil Cook knew.

The place was a dump. Even if Cook had bothered to keep it clean, it wouldn't have made much difference. The faucet leaked, plaster was falling off the walls, the floor was uneven, and the paint, which Robin was sure had a lead base, was pealing everywhere. As far as personal effects went, Cook didn't seem to have much. There were no pictures on the walls of family or friends, no albums of newspaper clippings, not even a collection of novels that might give Robin an idea about the guy's psyche. His clothes were all nondescript - stuff bought from chain department stores. The refrigerator was empty with the exception of a few cans of beer and a bottle of cheep bourbon. The cabinets had few dishes, and even fewer food items. The guy seemed to live off Ramen Noodles and alcohol.

Finally, when the nearby church bell struck one, Robin found what he was looking for, a laptop computer and a digital camera. They were in a footlocker buried under a pile of putrid laundry - an effective hiding spot, if he'd ever seen one. No thief would be willing to dig through that mound of soiled t-shirts and ripe undergarments, no matter how great the pay-off. Robin, however, didn't have the luxury of being disgusted. Once the computer was on, Robin had no trouble finding out what Cook's plan was. Nor did he have any trouble erasing all information about Dick Grayson, The Haley Brother's Circus, and Bruce Wayne. But wiping the hard drive didn't make him feel any better, Cook still knew, and the information he had was public domain, things pieced together from newspapers, telephone books and the Wayne Corp. website. It would only take a few hours of work to re-create the files he had, if he hadn't hidden a backup already. But while the back-up information was frightening in how much it revealed about Dick Grayson and his personal life, it didn't answer the most important question of all - how Cook knew.

There was a creak on the stairs leading to the door. Robin thought about hiding his presence, but realized it would be pointless. From the sounds of the footfall, Cook was drunk, and, if properly intimidated, likely to spill all he knew. Robin stepped into the shadows and waited.

It took Cook almost five minutes to open his door. He was very drunk, and the lock was very bad. When he did stumble in, he didn't bother to take his keys out of the lock. Robin was forced to wonder if dirty laundry was the only security system this man had.

Cook stumbled over to the refrigerator and opened it up, pulling out the bottle of bourbon. As he fumbled to unscrew the top, Robin made his move.

"I think you've had enough," the Boy Wonder said, stepping out of the shadows and grabbing the bottle away from him.

Cook looked at the green-gloved hand in front of him for a second, then, as the realization of what had just happened finally made it to his brain, he started to laugh.

"What's so funny?" Robin demanded.

"You," Cook chuckled. "What you doin' Grayson?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Robin lied.

"If you didn't know what I was talkin' about, you wouldn't be here," Cook continued. "You showed your hand this afternoon."

"You were spying on us, I'd have done the same to anyone."

"Right," Cook said, still chuckling. "And would you have hunted anybody down? Would you have broken into anybody's apartment? Would you have erased anybody's computer?"

Robin didn't answer.

"You're only proving my point for me, Grayson, you're only making me surer and surererer," he slurred.

"You're drunk," Robin said.

"Maybe, but then, I'm a journalist, I can be drunk 90% of the time and still uncover the truth," he giggled. "That's why I love this job."

"If you're a journalist, why aren't you working for a paper?"

"I was," Cook said, suddenly turning bitter. "But the damn Times fired me. Said I was unethical - just 'cause I took a picture of a drowning kid."

"Why didn't you try to help him?"

"What, are you on their side?!" Cook asked. "Damn it, I'm the press, the fifth estate, I don't interfere, I document."

"You're interfering with me," Robin said.

"Yeah, well, I need money and you got it."

"Why do you think I have money?"

"Stop it, already, will ya?" Cook demanded. "I got 'nuff of a headache as it is, don't need you bein' all double-meaningy with me."

"I'm not being . . . there's no double meaning in what I said," Robin insisted. "I want to know why you think I'm this Grayson person."

"'Cause you are."

"But I'm not."

"I seen ya kid, without your mask on."

"When?"

"At that art thing, while back. When ya locked up Alicia Silvers."

Again, Robin was speechless.

"I got a photo," Cook continued. "Actually, I got a lot a them. I was hopin' to sell one to some tabloid or something, ya know, Teen Titans in Action, but it turns out, most of the papers were already covering the show and had their own people there."

"How unfortunate for you," Robin said dryly.

"But then I realized, I have a bunch of pictures of you with you're mask on, and then one or two of you with your mask off. With a little work on photo-shop I got this . . ." he pulled a piece of paper out of his breast pocket. It had four grainy, black and white pictures on it. Two smaller ones, which were at the top of the page, were of Robin from the Art expo, one was a regular shot, him with his mask on, and the other was from a similar angle, only he had his mask off while the rest of his face was covered in purple goo. A larger picture underneath them was an obviously a compilation, and under that was a clear picture of Dick Grayson - the resemblance was undeniable.

"This isn't me," Robin said, trying to sound convincing and unafraid.

"We both know it is," Cook said. "It would have been a better argument to say that this pic isn't Richard Grayson, but, then, we both know it's him too."

"How did you make the connection between me and Grayson?"

"Ugh," Cook sighed. "Do I look like an idiot?"

"Do you really want me to answer that question?"

"You look exactly alike!" Cook said. "I probably wouldn't a noticed 'cept that picture on the bottom was the last one I had published."

"Why would you publish a picture of him?" Robin asked, baffled. The way the picture was cropped, it was impossible for him to tell when or where it was taken.

"I covered that opening of the Wayne-Tech factory in Santa Cruz. He was there, or, you were there - you probably remember."

"I'm keeping this," Robin said, tucking the paper into his cape.

"Fine, I got lots and lots of copies," Cook said. "Not here, of course, but, you know, around."

"So, what's your game?" Robin said.

"Blackmail is pretty much it."

"I pay up and you're information goes away?"

"That's usually the way it works," Cook shrugged.

"And if I don't pay? You sell the information to the highest bidding media outlet?"

"Media outlet?" Cook scoffed. "News orgs don't pay squat, not for this kind of info."

"You'd sell it to one of our enemies," Robin said. A sickening sense of dread was starting to settle in the pit of his stomach. It was hard to breath, and even harder to keep from grabbing Cook by the collar and throwing him out his third story window.

"No one here in 'Frisco seems like a good buyer," Cook commented. "But back in Gotham, Poison-Ivy, Two Face, hell, the Joker, they've all got the cash to set me up real good."

"They wouldn't deal straight, you know that," Robin said. "They'd kill you the second you told them the name."

"Yeah, maybe, but, by then they'd have your name," Cook said. "And they'd know all about Bruce Wayne, Harry Haley, Alfred Pennyworth, Lesley Tompkins, need I go on?"

"What do you want?"

"Right now, a million dollars sounds damn good."

"I don't have that kind of money," Robin said flatly. He didn't feel like mentioning he'd never pay a blackmailer on principle. He wanted to see the type of man Cook was first.

"Sure you do. You're Bruce Wayne's kid."

"Bruce Wayne may have millions to spare. But I don't have that kind of money."

"You could get it."

"Could I?"

"Ask Wayne," Cook suggested. "He'd probably give it to you. But I wouldn't tell him what you needed it for, though, that man's dumber than a post. You think I'm untrustworthy . . . Hell, you could probably steal it from the dunce's wallet. Or rob a bank, if you needed to," Cook said with a shrug. "You're the Boy Wonder, you'll figure it out."

"What if I figured that the safest thing to do would be to eliminate you?" Robin asked, hoping he could turn the blackmailer's game around on him and scare Cook into silence.

"Come on," Cook laughed, slapping Robin's shoulder. "You wouldn't."

"Maybe, to protect innocent people, I would."

"Nah," Cook said. "You wouldn't. You're one of those unskewpooless -- "

"Unscrupulous?" Robin asked.

"Yeah, Unsckrewpooless ethical guys."

"Unscrupulously ethical?" Robin asked, glancing out the window. "That's a way to put it."

"Look, I know that a mil won't be easy to get. I'll give you a week."

"A week?" Robin scoffed.

"On Sunday night, or, no, morning - one a.m., I'll expect to see you, you as Dick Grayson, mild mannered millionaire's boy, sittin' in a booth at Mel's dinner down the street with a backpack full of unmarked bills, got it?"

"One a.m.," Robin said. "That might be past Dick Grayson's bed time."

"Doesn't seem to be bothering you tonight."

"What happens if he doesn't show?"

"Then everyone Dick Grayson loves will be free game for the highest Robin-hating bidder."

To Be Continued . . .


	3. A spot of philosophy

**Note:** Again thanks for all the reviews! And, just a warning, if you read this and go "huh?" you need to beef up on you're Batman.

**Chapter 2: A spot of philosophy **

Robin didn't come down for breakfast the next morning. It was unusual that he would miss breakfast, the most important meal of the day, but on the other hand, he did have a tendency to forget to eat, so no one thought anything of it. However, when he didn't come out by lunch time, Starfire started to get worried.

"He should eat," She said. "Perhaps I should take him some food."

"He can get it himself," Cyborg said gruffly.

"Are you angry with him?" Starfire asked.

"Angry, why should I be angry? Just because Bird Boy's keeping secrets again."

"Secrets?" Starfire gasped. "Why would Robin be keeping secrets? He would not be keeping secrets!"

"Just ask Raven," Cyborg said.

"He's not keeping secrets," Raven said, "At least, no new ones."

"He went all postal on that photographer," Cyborg said, "Then he wouldn't talk about it."

"He has a right to privacy," Raven said.

"Does he have a right to lie to us?" Cyborg asked.

"Robin would not lie," Starfire asserted.

"Unless he was dressing up as Red X and fighting us so he could get all buddy-buddy with our enemies," Cyborg answered.

"He said he was sorry," Starfire insisted.

"And that was cool, until he started doin' it again," Cyborg said.

"I think maybe we are leaping to conclusions," Starfire said. "Perhaps if you tell me what exactly transpired . . ."

"A man was hiding behind a dumpster, watchin' us. He said he was a journalist, doing a story on the Titans, but Robin treated him like he was some sort of supervillain."

"You don't know that he wasn't," Raven pointed out.

"That guy was a nobody," Cyborg said with confidence. "Robin just went crazy."

"If he did 'go crazy' perhaps he had a good reason," Starfire suggested.

"Reasons he won't share," Cyborg said.

"Reasons he doesn't need to share," Raven interjected.

"Why are you suddenly little-miss-trusting-Thomas?" Cyborg asked.

"First of all, its 'Doubting Thomas'," Raven said. "And second, Robin has proven his trustworthiness more than once."

"When he keeps secrets, bad things happen," Cyborg insisted.

"Like what?" Raven asked.

"Like killer nanite infections."

"Robin was a victim in that situation," Starfire said. "Just as we were."

"That doesn't give him license to keep secrets," Cyborg said. "This team is built on trust, and knowing that Robin is keeping things from us makes me kind of not trust him."

"That's your issue, not his," Raven said.

"Do you suppose Robin could be in trouble?" Starfire asked. "The last time, with the nanites, he was . . ."

"Hey, guys," Beast boy said. "There's a really easy way to find out."

"How?" Cyborg asked eagerly.

"Simple, I spy on him."

"Oh," Raven said, rolling her eyes. "That's a good way to build trust."

"We're not the ones who need to build up trust," Cyborg said. "He is."

"I do not like the idea of spying on our friend," Starfire said.

"If we don't spy on him, we won't know if he really is our friend," Cyborg argued.

"So, should I do it then?" Beast Boy asked.

"No," Raven said definitively.

"Yes," Cyborg said, with equal conviction.

"Looks like you're the deciding vote, Star," Beast Boy said, turning to the young alien.

"I do not like making this decision," she said, looking form one friend to the next. "Robin has always done what was best for us all."

"What _he thought_ was best for us all," Cyborg said.

"That is true," Starfire sighed. "He is very brave, and very noble, but sometimes, I fear, in his desire to protect us, he makes the wrong decisions."

"So?" Beast Boy said uncertainly. "Is that a yes?"

"It is," Starfire said, closing her eyes and nodding.

"All right," Beast Boy said. He'd been excited about the idea of trying to spy on Robin. If nothing else, it would have been a good test of his skills. But Starfire's heart-broken consent took all the fun out of it. This was a serious thing, a sort of betrayal, and he suddenly started wondering what good could possibly come of it.

"Just don't get caught," Cyborg warned.

"I won't," Beast Boy snapped before he turned into a tiny mouse and scuttered away.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

****

The face on the screen wasn't one Beast Boy would have expected to see. It wasn't a dark shadow, or some massive kung-fu master, or a mystical alien. It was just a man, an old, bald, man. He looked tired, and he spoke with the same kind of accent as a lot of the actors Raven and Starfire liked. The man seemed too old to be Robin's father, but still, the Boy Wonder was bearing his soul to this ordinary, wimpy even, old man.

"I just, I didn't want to do it without his approval. I didn't think it was right."

"You haven't sought his approval on a great many issues for some time now."

"Bruce doesn't have a right to dictate every particular of my life, but that doesn't mean I have the right to put him and you in danger."

"Master Richard, we are, all of us, constantly, in danger. All it takes is one person with an unusually keen intellect and proper motivation, or, as your friend Mr. Cook has proven, one unlucky coincidence, and the secret will unravel. No matter how closely you guard the truth, it is the truth, and therefore it is obtainable. But then, you know that."

"Alfred, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course, Master Richard."

"Have I been lying all this time by hiding the truth from my friends?"

"Do you think you have?"

"It's just, they've been so open with me," he said, looking at his feet and rubbing the back of his neck. "Star in particular, and I never even told her my name."

"But, have you lied to her? Have you ever, with malicious intent, held the truth from her?"

Robin sat for a minute, thinking, finally he said. "No, not, not about -- about this, not about who I am. I never lied nor hid, I just, I played it close."

"If you may be so bold as to assume I have gained some insight into your friends from your correspondence, I would say that Miss Starfire seems to be the type of person who could easily understand your motivation, and, accordingly, would be quick to forgive you your caution."

"I guess," Robin said softly. He took a deep breath, "But that still doesn't solve my problem. If I tell them, I lose control. If something happened . . ."

"You'll lose control?" the prim British man said, raising an eyebrow. "Heaven forbid anyone in our little family ever lose control of anything."

There was a pause. Finally, Robin answered, "If your comparing me to him, you've made your point."

"I just think you should consider what behavior drove you away from your home in the first place, and whether or not you're willing to drive your friends away in like manor."

"But, you, and Leslie, Lucius Fox and Mr. Haly . . . even Bruce . . ."

"You cannot keep suffering from others, Master Richard. It is noble that you try, but you have to realize that suffering will happen to all of us. It is the way of the world."

"If we can't stop suffering, what's the point of fighting at all?"

"It has always been my understanding that it is not the suffering of the innocents you fight against, but rather, those who see their fellow man as little more than a means to an end, or a prize to gain, that is, those who would strip the humanity from any and all they meet."

"I guess," Robin muttered.

"Can you tell me truthfully, looking back on your life, that all the pain you went through was fruitless? That it lead to a worsening of the state of your soul, not a bettering?"

"No," Robin answered hoarsely. "But that doesn't mean I want it."

"Perhaps not, but all the good you do, you could not have done without suffering the grievous sorrows you were forced to forbear. You are strong, Master Richard, and it is indeed your duty to protect those weaker than yourself. But you should not protect them from suffering, which fortifies the spirit, or pain, which makes us strong, but rather from hopelessness, despair and humiliation. Fight evil by all means, my dear boy, but fight the right evils."

"Alfred," Robin said hesitantly. Beast Boy had never heard Robin sound like that, like he was afraid. "If you could . . . if you could have stopped it all. If you could have saved the Wayne's and my parents . . . would you have?"

The astute man laughed softly, "You've found the weakness of my conviction, my dear boy. Every time I see that damned signal in the sky, I fear I would and every time I hear the stories about children saved from burning buildings and murders being locked away, I thank God I was not given such a terrible power."

"I miss you, Alfred."

"And I miss you, sir."

"I think I'm going to try and come home for Thanksgiving this year."

"That would be most welcome."

"Bruce wouldn't . . ."

"He worries about you, almost as much as I do. It would do him good to see you fit and well."

"Thanks Alfie," Robin said. His voice had regained its cool confidence; whatever shadows of doubt the Boy Wonder had been feeling were apparently gone. "I'll be in touch."

"Then by the secure satellite video link I shall stand, tingling with anticipation," the British man said dryly.

Robin laughed. "Talk to you later."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"_Master Richard_?" Cyborg asked incredulously.

"Perhaps you misheard," Starfire said hopefully. "Perhaps he said 'Master Robin'."

"I didn't mishear," Beast Boy asserted.

"But even if he did . . ." Cyborg started

"I didn't!"

"Yeah, but even if you did, why is this old man calling Robin 'Master' at all? It's kinda creepy. And in the movies, that's never a good sign."

"You're forgetting something," Raven said.

"What?" Beast Boy asked.

"Robin is a master. He has black belts in Kung-fu, Tie-kwan-doe, Karate and Ti chi."

"You can get a black belt in Ti chi?" Cyborg asked.

"It is possible this man, whoever he is, is studying under Robin."

"Nuh-uh," Best Boy said emphatically, shaking his head. "No way. I saw the way they talked. Robin was going to this stranger for help."

"I don't like this," Cyborg said. "This has got a bad feeling to it."

"You're all being ridiculous," Raven said, the smallest hints of anger in her voice. "If Robin is hiding something, it's nothing new. He's the same person he was yesterday."

"Well, maybe we couldn't trust him yesterday," Cyborg said defiantly.

"I cannot believe that," Starfire interjected. "Robin has always been . . ."

"If you're going to end that sentence with 'honest' I might just whack you upside the head till you start remembering right."

"Perhaps honest is not the right word," Starfire amended. "But the dishonest things he did, he did for good reason, to protect us and this city."

"He did for his own reasons," Cyborg argued. "If this was the first time I learned he's kept something from us, or even the second . . ."

"Are you going to get mad at him every time he doesn't tell you exactly what he's doing in his life?" Raven demanded. "If he decides to go for a walk, are you going to suspect him of a nefarious rendezvous?"

"Na-who-witz randa-what?" Beast Boy asked.

"Maybe I should," Cyborg said defiantly. "The fact remains, we don't know anything about him, and he's betrayed us more than once."

"He's acted ruthlessly more than once, but he never betrayed us," Raven asserted. "If he ever decided to do us harm, I doubt there would be enough of us left to debate his trustworthiness."

"All the more reason to debate it now," Cyborg said.

"Friends," Starfire said emphatically. "Talk like this will only hurt us. If we have any doubts about Robin, we should ask him about them. I am sure there is a reasonable explanation for it all."

"There is an explanation," Robin said from the door. His voice was calm and somehow hard - not unlike a sword or dagger. The room fell silent and everyone turned to look at him. "But, whether it's reasonable or not," he continued coolly. "I really couldn't say."

"Robin!" Starfire exclaimed, running up to him. "Tell us how you are an honest person and a good friend and would never betray us unless it was only pretending to betray us so that you could really aid us in our fight to protect the city!"

"Yeah Robin," Cyborg said. "Do that."

"I don't know if I can." Robin told them honestly.

"Why not, _Master Richard_?" Beast Boy asked.

"You know, when you spy on people in the air ducts, you really should turn into a snake, not a mouse," Robin said. "The claws on the metal are a dead giveaway."

"Dude, you knew I was there?!"

"Of course I did," Robin said. "And I could have ended my transmission at any time, or, better yet, closed the air ducts, sealed my room and been assured I was in total privacy."

"Then why didn't you?" Beast Boy asked.

"Because," Robin said. "I want you to know I trust you."

"And to prove our trustworthiness, we spy on you," Raven commented flatly.

"So, who was the guy?" Cyborg asked. "And why was he calling you master?"

"The guy is Alfred, my Butler, or, rather, my guardian's butler."

"Your guardian?" Starfire asked.

"Your butler?" Beast boy said.

"My name is Richard Grayson," Robin started calmly.

"No," Starfire interjected. "You're name is Robin."

"My parents named me Richard Grayson," Robin continued. "But everyone always called me Dick."

"The name fits," Cyborg muttered under his breath. Robin glanced at him, but didn't say anything.

"My parents were trapeze artists. I grew up in a circus," Dick continued. "Until . . . ." he couldn't quite finish the sentence.

"Until?" Star prompted.

"The rope snapped," Dick answered quietly. "And my parents fell."

"But why should that . . .?" the pretty alien continued.

"They fell to their death, Starfire," Raven said. "They died."

"No!" Starfire practically screamed as she burst into tears. "You're wonderful parents who loved you died!"

"Ah, yeah," Robin said uncomfortably.

She ran up to him, throwing her arms around his shoulders and pulling him into a bear hug, bawling all the while. "This is a grief too heavy to bear! How can you go on!?"

"By fighting," Robin answered, pulling himself away from her just enough so he could address the rest of the group. "You see, the wire didn't just snap. It had been corroded by a natural acid. One of the mob bosses, Frankie Zucco, had been trying to extort the circus's owner, Mr. Haly. But Mr. Haly wouldn't pay, so my parents were murdered to make good the threat."

The room fell silent. Even Starfire's crying stopped. After a moment, Robin took a deep breath and continued. "Bruce Wayne took me in. He was there, that night, and, ah, he could understand. When he was a boy, he saw his parents murdered too."

"How can one house hold such sadness?" Starfire asked. Tears were flowing freely out of her eyes but the grief she felt appeared to be too heavy to express itself in sound and movement. She was beyond bawling.

"Bruce Wayne?" Cyborg asked. "As in Wayne Enterprises? As in gobs and gobs of money?"

"And a mansion with a butler?" Beast Boy asked.

"Yes, I guess, and yes," Robin answered.

"How did you become Robin?" Raven asked, taking a step closer.

"When my parents died it was meant to look like an accident," Robin said with a forced calm. "And those members of the police who wanted to investigate it were blocked by those who were on the take. "

"On the take?" Beast Boy asked.

"Being bribed by the mob," Raven supplied.

"Batman knew what had happened, and why, but he didn't know how. He needed someone with inside information about the circus to do some investigating and I needed someone to help me bring my parent's murderer to justice. He trained me to be his partner and, once we brought Zucco down, he invited me to stay."

"So, when did you get you're super powers?" Cyborg asked.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know, man," Beast boy said. "You're super powers that make you super strong and fast and smart."

"I don't have any super powers," Robin insisted.

"Well, maybe you were exposed to some radiation or something," Beast Boy suggested. "Was your mansion right next to a power plant or a chemical factory?"

"No."

"Perhaps you are not really human?" Starfire suggested, almost hopefully.

"I am human," Robin assured her. "If I were an alien, I think a doctor would have noticed by now."

"Hey, maybe a witchdoctor put a spell on you," Beast Boy continued.

"Or maybe Batman gave you some sort of mutating serum," Cyborg said. "Or injected you with nanites?"

"No," Robin said, he was starting to sound annoyed.

"Maybe he didn't tell you he did it," Cyborg suggested.

"Yeah," Beast Boy said. "Batman's supposed to be a really shady guy."

"None of that is true!" Robin practically yelled, taking an angry step back. "I'm just a normal guy with exceptional training!"

"Are you telling us," Starfier started, "That you are not special, not unique, not -"

"I'm just Richard Grayson," Robin said cagily, "nothing behind my back or up my sleeves."

"Is that why you were hiding?" Cyborg asked. "Because you were ashamed of . . . ." He was silenced by a glare.

"I was hiding to protect those I love; people like Alfred or Mr. Haly. If someone like Slade found out about them, they'd be in danger. I can't have that."

"Ok," Cyborg said. "But we're the good guys, we'd never go after your family or whatever."

"I see that," Robin said. "That's why I told you."

"And you didn't tell us before because . . . ?" Cyborg asked.

"I was happy to trust you with my life," Robin said. "But their's . . . ."

"So you don't trust us to keep our mouths shut when we're around supervillians, is that what you're saying?" Cyborg asked accusingly.

"I'm saying that you can never be too careful."

"I think we're finding out that you can," Cyborg said.

The two boys stared at each other for a moment. Robin blinked first. "I can't change what I did," He said, addressing the whole room. "And I wouldn't, even if I could. I'm sorry if I'm not who, or what, you thought I was, but I never lied to you."

No one answered him. Cyborg looked angry, Beast Boy looked confused, Raven looked annoyed, and Starfire hadn't stopped crying. Without another word, Robin turned and left the room.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"So," Beast Boy asked. "Wha'da'ya guys figure on doing now?"

"What do you mean?" Starfire sniffled.

"Well, do we kick him out of the tower, or, what? I mean, could we kick him out of the tower?"

"We will not kick Robin out of the tower!" Starfire said emphatically. "He is our friend and --"

"Starfire," Cyborg interrupted. "How can Robin be our friend when Robin doesn't even exist?"

"He does exist!"

"No, Dick Grayson exists. Robin is just Grayson in a mask."

"You all are fools," Raven interjected.

"What are you talking about?" Cyborg demanded.

"Not six months ago, Robin -"

"You mean Dick," Cyborg interjected.

"It doesn't matter what I call him, what matters is he saved our lives by infusing himself with killer nanites."

"Ugh," Beast Boy shuddered. "You mean those orange glowy things?"

"He chose to die as one of us."

"Instead of being a slave to a psychopath," Cyborg said dryly. "Wow, noble."

"We were the only hold Slade had on him," Raven said. Her voice stayed the same volume, but, somehow, it seemed to double in intensity. It sent chills down everyone's spines. "If we died, he was free."

Cyborg didn't answer. Beast Boy looked guilty. And, Starfire continued to cry.

"Fine," Cyborg finally snorted. "You go be on his side."

"He has always been on our side," Raven said authoritatively. "So I'm not going anywhere."

To be continued . . .

READER APPRICIATION!

_I was asked (twice) this is a Robin/Starfire story, and the answer is YES, because, at this time, in this place, Robin and Starfire were a couple. However, my conscience prohibits me from saying that without mentioning that Batgirl/Oracle and Robin/Nightwing are clearly meant for each other and are only apart because it builds romantic tension – that and Babs can be a spaz._


	4. Thine own self

**Note: **Thanks, everyone, for the reviews! I really appreciate them. Though, for the record, this chapter was written long before I got any of them. I know Cyborg's not a jerk – he just sometimes plays one on TV.

**Chapter 3: Thine own self**

"Hey," Raven's gravely voice said, cutting through the silence. Robin didn't turn to look at her. "Mind if I join you?"

"No," he answered.

The girl walked up beside him and sat down, cross-legged. She didn't let her feet dangle over the edges of Titan Tower's roof, nor did she put up her hood to ward of the cold. She was neither that carefree nor that undisciplined.

For a while they sat in silence. Finally, she said; "They'll figure it out eventually, you know."

"Will they?" Robin asked. His voice, full of cynicism and sarcasm, was sharper than he wanted it to be.

"They will," Raven assured him. "They just need to realize that a bad choice can be the best choice too."

"They think I lied."

"Did you?"

"I'm not sure," Robin said as he looked down at his gloved hands. "I meant what I said back there: I'm not sorry. I mean, I am, but I'm not. I wouldn't change what I did."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Raven assured him. "Don't be ashamed that you have something worth protecting and don't apologize for sacrificing to do that. I know you want to be honest with us, and I think they all do too."

"I'm not sure it's enough."

"It will have to be," Raven said with an uncompromising tone in her voice. "You're secrets are a deep and important part of who you are. If they want to accept you, they'll have to accept them."

"Seems to be asking a little much."

"No more than anyone else," told him. "We all guard ourselves in different ways. If we don't judge Best Boy for joking when he should be serious, I don't see why we should judge you for being cautious when you should be open."

Robin laughed softly at the unusual comparison. He wasn't quite sure Beast Boy's jokes were on the same level as his secrets, but it was nice to know that there was at least one person in the tower who was willing to see things in a favorable light. He turned to look at his friend and smiled. "How did you get so wise?"

"More than my fair share of suffering," Raven said flatly, not looking for pity or compassion, but stating it as a fact. There was even a hint of a smile in her eyes and voice. "You understand that."

"I guess I do," Robin said with a sigh. He looked up at the cloud-filled sky and rubbed the back of his neck. "Now I just have to decide what to do."

"Whatever you do, you know we'll stand behind you. All of us."

"I know."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"I can't believe it," Cyborg muttered as he assaulted the simple, sand filled, bag with superhuman brute force. Beast Boy obligingly held the bag for him, but the small shape-shifter was forced to take the form of a Silver Back Gorilla to withstand the force of the half-robot's punches. "All that time together, all the things I thought I knew about him, it's all a lie."

Beast Boy grunted something, but, because he was a gorilla, Cyborg had no idea what he was trying to say.

"It's just that, it's hard to believe," Cyborg continued. "That an ordinary kid could make it up here with the big hitters, you know, that he could fight just as well, maybe better, then the rest of us."

Beast Boy growled.

"And it's not that I'm jealous," Cyborg continued, "'Cause I'd rather be me, and able to shoot plasma beams and interface with computers, and know that no bullets gonna take me down, then be him, and always havin' ta doge, and train, and out-think everybody else. I wouldn't want that kind of pressure on me."

Beast Boy groaned.

"And I guess that explains the secrets, the not-trusting. If you just a regular guy, who could be killed or hurt by just regular things, I guess you'd be pretty scared of everything, including your superfriends. "

Beast Boy grunted again.

"But," Cyborg said, pausing. "Robin doesn't seem afraid."

"Hey, can I say something?" Beast Boy asked, slipping back into his natural form.

"I guess," Cyborg said, temporarily halting his assault.

"Robin said he never told anyone who he was because he was protecting people, right?"

"Yeah, his butler or whatever," Cyborg said.

"Well, don't you think that's probably the truth?"

"Maybe, but who cares?"

"The people he's protecting, for starters," Beast Boy said. "I mean, look, we were all small timers doin' our own little thing until Robin approached us with the whole Teen Titans idea, am I right?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"But Robin was a somebody before this," Beast Boy continued. "He was fighting crime with Batman for years in Gotham, and he's got enemies ten times scarier than anyone we've ever faced."

"You're selling us short," Cyborg said.

"Well, ok, Slade is pretty creepy - but he's the biggest bad we've got," Beast Boy argued. "But compare him to the Joker, or Mr. Zasta, or the Scarecrow?" Beast Boy shuddered. "If they knew who your family was . . . and they wanted to hurt you . . . " He couldn't quite finish the thought.

"Yeah, I know," Cyborg said. "And you can't blame a guy for protecting his family. It's not that he didn't tell us his real name. That's not what bothers me."

"Well, then, what is bothering you?"

"Never mind," Cyborg said sharply. "You'd better go gorilla, I'm in the mood to hit something, hard."

"Wait!" Beast Boy said forcefully, walking around the punching bag so that he stood between it and Cyborg. "What's bothering you?"

"Nothing, I'm fine!"

"No, you're not," Beast Boy insisted. "Tell me what's up."

"I just don't think it's fair, is all," Cyborg said.

"Fair?" Beast Boy asked.

"Some people are different, special, and I'm cool with that. I mean, look at you, you're green and can turn into different animals, freaky, yeah, but cool."

"I'm, ah, not seeing you're point."

"Well, it can't be easy beein' all little and green," Cyborg said. "You kinda stick out in a crowd."

"Yeah, I guess."

"It's not easy being half robot," Cyborg continued. "People look at me on the street and sometimes they're scared, like I'm some sort of monster, and sometimes they're fascinated, like I'm the newest gizmo made for their amusement, you know. I'm never, in my whole life, gonna be able to shake that, 'cause I'm always gonna be different."

"So?" Beast Boy asked.

"So, how come Robin can take off his mask and just disappear into a crowd?"

"It's probably the trade off for having to put it on in the first place," Beast Boy said.

"And why is he so good?"

"He works hard," Beast Boy said, adding, "A lot harder than I've ever wanted to work."

"So could anybody be that good, if they worked hard?" Cyborg said. "There's got to be another piece, a piece we're missing, a piece he's not telling us."

"I don't know," Beast Boy said. "I think I'm gonna trust Robin. You know, trust that if there's something important he has to tell us, he'll tell us."

Cyborg looked away, steaming, and didn't answer.

"Raven was right," Beast Boy said. "I mean, he's got good reasons not to be the most open guy in the world, and he did infect himself with nanites to save us . . ."

Cyborg still didn't answer.

"So," Beast Boy continued. "I'm gonna trust him . . . that's what I really wanted to say."

The small green boy morphed into a huge, muscular gorilla and took hold of the punching bag. But Cyborg, it seemed, was no longer in the mood to work out. With a frustrated sigh, he turned and walked away.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Robin?" Starfire said tentatively, knocking on his door. "Robin, you have not eaten all day and Raven made lentil mushroom soup in which Beast Boy put tofu and Cyborg put bacon and I put peanut-butter cups, but I did not know what you would wish to put on it, so I brought all those things, and cheese, and pickles, and salsa, and marshmallows, and . . ."

"Starfire," Robin said, opening his door. "You can come in."

"Oh," The girl sighed, smiling at him beautifully. "I am very glad to hear it. This tray is very heavy."

She floated into the door, not bothering to walk and risk tripping, as she carried a tray so overloaded with condiments that she couldn't possibly have seen over the top.

"Ahh," Robin said uncertainly as he looked at her easily up-turned tray. "Why don't you set that over here?" He gently took her arm and led her towards the table in the middle of the room, quickly brushing aside the piles of old newspaper clippings he'd been going through.

"Thank you," Robin said, carefully taking the bowl off soup off the top of the pile. "I don't suppose you brought crackers."

"Crackers?" Starfire asked. "I did not bring crackers. I should go get them."

"Star, wait," Robin said, grabbing her arm. "It's no big deal."

"But, if you want crackers . . ." Starfire started.

"No," Robin said. "I'd rather have your company."

She turned and looked at him. He was smiling at her. She could feel herself smiling back, and she had to force her feet to stay on the ground.

"So," Robin started. "I take it from the soup that you're not mad at me."

"No, I am not," Starfire said. "If I thought that some of the horrible people we have fought might be able to reach my family, I would be most protective, perhaps even secretive and deceitful."

"You think I was deceitful?" Robin asked.

She wanted to look him in the eyes, but he was wearing the mask. It had never bothered her before, even after she'd seen his brilliant blue eyes the color of the sea just after a storm, she had not been adverse to the mask. It was part of Robin. But now that she knew that there was a Richard Grayson, she wanted to talk to him too, and the mask seemed to be in the way. "I just," she said uncertainly. "I just am not sure who you are."

"I'm Robin."

"But you are Richard Grayson."

"I'm both."

"At the same time?" Starfire asked. "Or are you one, sometimes, and the other at other times? Or are you half Robin, and half Richard Grayson - and if that is the case, are you sometimes more Robin than Richard Grayson or more Richard Grayson than Robin?"

"I don't know," Robin said. "I never really thought about it like that."

"But you have to know," Starfire insisted. "You have to explain it too me. I do not understand how you can be two people at once. And I do not want you to ever not be Robin, but if you are Richard Grayson, I do not want you to not be him too, and are you ever a third person, and when you grow up and become Nightwing, will you still be Robin, and will you still be Richard Grayson?"

"Star," Robin said, holding his hands in front of him. "Calm down."

"I am perfectly calm," She assured him. "But I am also perfectly confused."

"I'm sorry, but, I don't know if I can explain this to you," Robin said.

"But, it is your life. You must understand it."

"I guess," he said, after a moment's thought, "That, I'm always both."

"Both?"

"I mean, I am Dick Grayson, and the things that happened to Dick Grayson, the people he knows and the stuff he's witnessed, that's what makes up Robin."

"Then, Robin is a mask Richard Grayson puts on," Star said, staring at Robins mask, wishing he'd take it off.

"No," Robin said, shaking his head. "Robin is . . . it's who I am. Even when I take off the costume and go with Bruce at some WayneTech function, or help Alfred polish the silver, or hang out at Haley Borther's Circus, everything that's part of Robin is still there in me. The training, the deduction, the . . . . the deception."

"But, if you are really Richard Grayson, how can you be deceiving people when you are being Richard Grayson?"

He hesitated, mouth open, as if he were waiting for the answer to come on it's own. Finally, he started telling a story. "When I first came to Gotham, right after my parents died, Alfred tutored me. Bruce wanted to send me to a prestigious private school, but there weren't any openings, so, so I waited. During that time, I met Batman and I became Robin. Robin knows how to fight, he can pulverize a guy three times his size, without breaking a sweat. Robin knows other things as well, he knows all about criminology and technology and a dozen other obscure subjects. Robin has to to survive. "

"I know," Starfire said softly. She had no idea where the story was going.

"But Dick Grayson can't do those things," Robin continued. "He's just a kid. So, when the boys at school decided to pick on the new kid who grew up in a circus and was no more than a charity case, Dick Grayson couldn't do a thing to stop them."

"I do not understand," Star said.

"I had to let them beat me up, Star," Dick said. "Because if I hadn't, if I'd used my skills, someone might have wondered where a twelve-year-old who spent the majority of his time hanging upside-down form a trapeze knew all about T'hi Chi pressure points and ju-dit-zu fighting strategy. I had to stop being Robin to survive as Dick Grayson."

He paused and glanced up at the ceiling. After a deep breath, he continued: "I guess, I guess to answer your question, I'm always Robin, and I'm always Dick Grayson, because they're exactly the same person. But I'm also always pretending to be one or the other. I never, well, hardly ever, get to be both . . . get to be just me."

Star looked at him. Never, in her whole life, had she felt the way she did at this point: a mixture of compassion, excitement, sorrow, pity, and even devotion and joy was swirling in her chest. "Robin, may I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Will you take off your mask?"

"Ok," he answered, not hesitating. He removed the black and white disguise and reviled his beautiful blue eyes.

Starfire starred into his eyes, looking for a division. She wanted to see if she could see something she had never seen before, something that was only Richard Grayson. But it wasn't there. Everything she knew about her best friend was painted plainly in those eyes - and those eyes hadn't been lying.

"Will you," she started, her emerald eyes still locked with his. "Would you, perhaps, be both Richard Grayson and Robin with me?"

"What?"

"You say you have to pretend, to leave part of yourself aside," Starfire said. "Please, I want to be friends with all of you, all the time."

"Of course, Star," Robin said kindly. "I'm . . . I'm really glad you want to."

He smiled at her, not his usual smile full of confidence and strength, but a smile that showed relief and devotion and the kind of unrestrained happiness that Robin would never permit himself to feel. Star realized with a thrill of joy, that Dick Grayson was smiling at her.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXx

Cyborg was in a bad mood. It was unreasonable, he knew, for him to be in as bad a mood as he was in, just because Robin had done what Cyborg had always thought he wanted him to do: told the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

The conversation with Beast Boy, while frustrating, had solidified one fact in his mind. He could trust Robin. The bird-boy may have been, and probably still was, pretty secretive, but those secrets hadn't ever been malicious or conspiratorial. They were secrets born of caution and prudence, just like Cyborg didn't tell anyone his reboot code or which programming functions controlled what. As his grandmother had said, an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure, and there's never any harm in not-telling someone something they don't need to know.

In the end, that's all Robin had really done, not told his friends things they didn't need to know. If Robin didn't have any special super powers, that was his own misfortune. The Boy Wonder could take care of himself - that was all that mattered.

But there was something else . . . .

It could have been a bug of jealousy. It was no secret that Cyborg longed for the days when he was just an un-enhanced human. He wanted to feel the warmth of a girl's hand holding his, or the ache in his muscles after a good work out, or the comfort of curling under a blanket on cold night. It didn't seem fair that Robin could do all those things and still be a Titan. It didn't matter that Raven and Beast Boy and Starfire hadn't been asked to make that sacrifice, because they had never been normal. But Robin had been, and still was, and always would be just a normal guy, and, while Cyborg could lie to Beast Boy, he couldn't lie to himself. He envied the Boy Wonder.

However, that wasn't what was eating at him. Sure, on the outside it seemed like Robin had a sweet deal, an orphan who's adopted by a millionaire and becomes a super hero – it's the stuff of most kid's fantasies. But Cyborg was wise enough to know that fantasies make terrible realities. He wondered what it was like, to see your parents fall to their death and know there was absolutely nothing you could do to save them. He wondered what it would feel like, moving from the Circus to a mansion, he wondered what kind of person Bruce Wayne really was. Robin had said Wayne's parents were murdered too, but that didn't necessarily mean the millionaire would be a comfort. Robin seemed to be fairly dedicated to Wayne, he'd never said a word against him, but, on the other hand, he also lived in a tower in San Francisco instead of his posh mansion with the butler, and he never, ever talked about home.

As much as Cyborg wanted to be what Robin was, a normal kid who at least had a chance at a normal life, he realized he'd rather know his parents were alive and safe, he'd rather have warm memories of Sunday brunches at his grandmother's house, football games with cousins and uncles, loud, chaotic Christmas mornings, Easter egg hunts, well attended school talent shows; basically, a loving family and a normal life.

There was no point in being jealous of Robin's apparent normality, because everything Cyborg wanted back, Robin had never had. Still, realizing that didn't calm Cyborg any: there was something else bothering him and he just couldn't figure out what.

As he thought about secrets, his mind wondered to Raven. It had never bothered him that she forbade anyone to go into her room, or that she never told anyone anything about herself. He'd just accepted that as part of who she was. Why was it different with Robin? Was it because Raven was a girl, and he expected her to be aloof and mysterious, while he expected Robin to be his buddy? Was it because Raven rarely asserted herself, and she'd never butted heads with Cyborg, so there was no reason for him to butt heads with her? He thought about the one time he'd crossed the line and forced Raven to spill her secrets (by accidentally getting sucked into her head). That had turned out well, she'd needed help, and only someone who knew her secrets, who knew she wasn't quite as in control as she needed to be, who knew how strong she was, and how vulnerable too, could possibly have ever helped her.

Then it clicked.

Cyborg made a bee-line for Raven's room and pounded on the door. "Raven, ya in there?" he demanded loudly.

"Yes," came the answer. She sounded severely annoyed.

"I gotta talk to you," he said.

The door opened a crack and her dark eyes peeked out. "About what?"

"About Robin."

"I don't feel like another fight," she said, starting to close the door.

Cyborg grabbed the edges, not letting it shut. "I don't either," he explained quickly. "I think the boy wonder is in trouble."

She paused and looked at him. "The photographer?" she asked.

"He mentioned Haly's Circus," Cyborg said. "He knows who Robin is. That's why bird-boy went crazy on him."

Raven opened the door fully, "What do you propose we do?"

"I got some ideas," Cyborg said.

"Good," Raven said, smiling ever so slightly. "Titans go."

To Be Continued . . .


	5. Friend in need

**Note: **Hey all, thanks so much for the reviews! I really appreciate every one. Someone mentioned in one of them that s/he always thought Robin on TT was Tim Drake. I wasn't sure for a while. He does wear Tim's costume (thank goodness) and is much cooler than Dick tends to be, but I'm convinced he's supposed to be Dick Grayson, and I'll tell you why. Of the two them, only one was in the Teen Titans, dated Starfire, could ever conceivably refer to Batman as his father, and (the clincher) have Nosyarg Kcid as a DNA buddy. All right, that was my rant, here's the story . . .

**Chapter 4:**

Dick Grayson cut an unimpressive figure as he rode the last bus of the night through San Francisco's streets to New China Town. He was wearing baggy black cargo pants and a plain red sweater to ward of the mid-November chill and hide the Kevlar vest. His watch was digital and looked cheap, but in fact, it had a global tracking chip that transmitted directly to a satellite which sent signals to Cyborg's navigational computer and one of the computers in the Batcave, which Alfred had promised to monitor until Dick could contact him. He also carried a yellow backpack filled with bills. Granted, they were counterfeits; Batman had confiscated them earlier in the month from Two-Face. He doubted Emil Cook would notice that the piles of $20s were printed on a hemp- cotton mix instead of linen-cotton, and that the serial numbers, while non-repetitive, were also one composed entirely of even numbers - Two-Face hated odds. Sewn into the lining of the backpack was a series of high-tech surveillance devices. A super microphone; a live-feed infrared camera; and a high-definition, pressure activated camera hidden in a zipper pull were all part of his unassuming back pack. Plus there was another tracking chip, in case Dick got separated from his bag. He was covered on all angles and Cook had no hope of pulling this off. Still, Dick was nervous.

He got off at 3rd street and walked a half a block to Mel's Diner. It was a 50's style diner open twenty-four hours a day and with free parking for customers. In San Francisco, that combination was golden. When Dick walked in at 12:35, no one looked at him. Eventually a waitress noticed him and took him to a booth next to a window. He ordered coffee and waited.

There were no signs of his friends outside. He couldn't see Starfire's eyes glowing through the haze or the headlights of passing cars reflecting off of Cyborg's polished body. He didn't see any green birds or dogs or rats, and he couldn't feel the electricity that filled the air whenever Raven muttered her mantra and gathered her power. As far as Dick Grayson could tell, he was alone.

Emil Cook entered the dinner at twenty-to one. He was drunk again, but not as bad as last time. Instead of coming over to Dick, he walked up to the juke box and popped in two quarters. He made his selection and smiled wickedly as he approached Dick's booth. The juke box started playing "Rockin' Robin."

"I bet you love this song," Cook said as he slid into the bench seat next to Dick, who scooted over as far as he could. He wanted to have as little physical contact with his blackmailer as possible.

"Not really," Dick said dryly, and then, as if it just occurred to him, added, "Oh, wait, I get it, because you think I'm Robin."

"You are Robin," Cook said casually.

"In point-of-fact I'm not," Dick said solidly.

"Then how come you've got a back-pack full of cash for me?"

"Because, you'll tell everyone I am Robin, regardless of the truth, and everyone I love will be in danger."

"Sure, fine, whatever," Cook sighed. "Can I see the money?"

Robin handed over the backpack. Cook unzipped it and looked in side. "Nice," he said, pulling out a pile of fake twenties, "Very nice."

He put the counterfeits back into the backpack, zipped it up, and threw it over his shoulder as he got up from the booth. "You've ponnied up pretty well," Cook said. "'Course, I'll have to count it all."

"Of course," Dick said coldly.

"And not here."

Dick didn't respond, he just stared at his stupid blackmailer with his intense blue eyes. Cook tried to meet his gaze, but couldn't. He laughed nervously. "Come on, kid."

"Come on, where?"

"Back to my place," Cook said. "I'll count my cash and you can collect my information."

"I don't trust you," Dick said coolly.

"What am I gonna do?" Cook scoffed. "You're the goose that laid the golden egg."

"They killed that goose," Dick replied.

"Come on," Cook said. "We'll get back to my place, I'll give you everything I got on you, maybe have a drink, and you'll be home by two. Scouts honor."

"Fine," Dick answered. His voice sounded annoyed and a little afraid, but, in truth, he was cautiously relieved. This had been in the plan from the beginning. Cook would lead him somewhere secluded and the Titans would pounce, freeing Dick Grayson, taking back the counterfeit money, and handing the sleaze-bag over to the police.

They exited the little diner and started walking across the small parking lot. As they approached the exit driveway, a large, dark van pulled into it, and Dick realized that Cook wasn't as dumb as he looked; he was dumber. He'd played both sides, blackmailing Dick Grayson while he sold Robin to the highest bidder. Dick wasn't anxious to see who that would be. He reached for his wrist to push the panic button. It would take the Titans about a minute to appear, and Dick was pretty sure he could buy them that time by struggling and putting up a fight. But before he could push the button, someone opened the door of the car behind him and reached out, trying to grab his neck.

Dick was too concerned about not being kidnapped and murdered to worry about not being a skilled fighter. If anyone asked, he could say he learned his tricks in the circus - very few people would know how impossible that claim would be. He ducked right as the hidden henchman lunged at him, and pivoted, kicking Cook's feet out from under him. He arched his back, so that the henchman stumbled over him and right onto Cook. Then Dick started running. He pushed his watch, alerting the Titans, but a second later something hit him in the back, knocking him down. He opened his eyes and they seemed to catch on fire. He closed them quickly, and the fire got worse. Dick sucked a breath in through gritted teeth and immediately started coughing - the air was full of a thick, burning gas. If the heaviness of the air in his lungs and the amount of pain in his eyes was any indication, he was in the middle of a cloud of orthochlorobenzalmalononitrile gas. Batman used to use a similar substance, until Wayne Tech produced a much stronger, non-toxic gas from red peppers. Continued exposure to orthochlorobenzalmalononitrile could cause permanent lunge and eye damage - he had to get out of there as soon as possible.

Trying to ignore that he couldn't see or breathe; Dick pushed himself up and started sprinting. He could remember the layout of the parking lot perfectly, only ten yards away was a pickup truck, parked right at the edge of the lot. He could jump onto the bed, the roof of the cab. From there, he should be able to reach the streetlight, if he jumped his highest. Once on the light, he should be out of the orthochlorobenzalmalononitrile cloud, and able to open his eyes. By then, the Titans should be there, and just starting to fight. His kept his ears strained for sounds of pursuit, moving cars, and unwelcome civilians. Batman had trained him to fight sightless, how to fight while in pain, how to fight without air, how to fight without weapons, and how to fight multiple assailants stronger than he. Dick knew everything he needed to know to win this battle. But then something else hit him on the back with enough force to push him back to the ground and knock the wind out of him. He couldn't not-take-a-breath, and he started coughing painfully; but he wasn't going to let that slow him down. However, when he tried to get up, he discovered a poly fiber net surrounded him. Through his coughing, without opening his eyes, his fingers quickly and calmly searched for the edge of the net. It would only take him a bout 4 seconds to find it, and then another one to throw it off, leaving him 34 seconds more to stall for time, and the Titans would be there to rescue him. But, right as his deft fingers found the edge, something hit him hard on the back of the neck. Sparks exploded in front of his closed eyes and his entire body shuddered. He slumped forward gasping for breath and coughing incessantly at the same time.

_Don't lose consciousness_, he ordered himself desperately, _stall for time, keep fighting_. He tried to push himself up onto his elbows, but another hard blow, this one to his head, knocked him back down. The coughing kept him awake as two bulky men grabbed him, and carried him to the dark van. But then, when they threw him against the wall, the pain and the coughing and everything else faded away.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"The question I have is this, Dick Grayson told me he was always Robin, and yet, it would seem, given the present circumstances, that he is not Robin."

"Well . . ."

"So, can he be Robin and not Robin at the same time? Is it the cape and boots and mask that are Robin, and not the boy inside them? If Dick Grayson were to decide not to be Robin anymore, could someone else be Robin?"

"I don't know."

"Would you be Robin?"

"I have enough on my plate just being myself."

"But you are not really yourself are you? Or are you like Dick Grayson and always two people or, perhaps, sometimes three?"

"Uhhh . . ."

"Just ignore her," Raven advised. "She'll wind herself down eventually."

"My confusion has nothing to do with winding," Starfire said. "I simply wish to know. . ."

"Uh-oh," Cyborg interrupted as he started the car. "The emergency signal went off. Something's going down."

"But it is not time yet!" Starfire said worriedly. "He is still in the Mel's Diner."

"He's dealing with a blackmailer," Raven said, "a greedy coward. That kind of man will do anything."

"We're only a block away, Star," Cyborg said. "We'll be there in plenty of time to save him."

"Yeah," Beast Boy chimed in. "Besides, this is Robin we're talking about. He's probably already beat up the bad guys."

"But, his signal," Star continued.

"Just a precaution," Cyborg suggested.

"Probably used it so we wouldn't feel left out," Beast Boy said.

Starfire looked over her shoulder at her teammates sitting beside her in the back seat, and then to Raven and Cyborg in front. They all seemed unconcerned. She tried to feel that way too. But when they reached the parking lot of Mel's Dinner and found nothing there but a cloud of tear gas and tire tracks, she couldn't help but be overwhelmed with worry and despair.

"We are too late!" she said. "He called for us and we did not come!"

"Calm down," Raven said. "Cyborg can still track him."

"Umm," Cyborg said. "Actually, no, I can't."

"You can't?" Beast Boy asked.

"I've lost the signal. There must be something blocking his transmissions."

"What about the money?" the fifth Titan asked. "Can you still track that?"

"No, they're both just . . . gone."

"What does that mean?" Starfire asked desperately.

"Wherever Dick Grayson is," Raven said, "He's alone."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dick woke up vomiting. He tried to breath, but choked on the vomit. Quickly he rolled onto his side, coughing the disgusting, acidic mess out of his mouth and gasping for breath. He tried to crawl onto his hands and knees, but his hands were bound behind him and his head felt like it was going to explode every time he moved it. Even though his eyes were closed, they felt like they were on fire and breathing was like rubbing barbed wire against his lungs. Another bout of nausea hit him, and he vomited again, but it didn't make him feel any better, if anything, it made the burning in his throat feel worse.

"Ugh," A heavy male voice said. "That's the second time the kid's done that."

"It's a side effect of my gas," a nasal and dreadfully familiar voice answered. "It'll wear off."

"But he's makin' a mess," the heavy voice continued. "An I don't wanna clean it up."

"Clean it up or not, it makes no difference," the nasal voice said. "We have our bird, a fine catch, even if the plumage is ruffled."

Dick ignored the pain, so sharp and strong it made him want to vomit a third time, as he opened his eyes. With some effort, he forced them to focus and discovered that ears hadn't lied to him. In the dark van's tinted windows he could see the small, but unmistakable reflection of Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot, otherwise known as The Penguin.

Cobblepot was sitting in the passenger seat, talking to a thug, the one who'd gotten out of the parked car. Another thug was sitting behind the driver on a bench seat along with Cook, who looked nervous and out of place with such hardened criminals. Dick himself was thrown in the back of the van like so much cargo. Next to him was a pile of heavy-duty radio equipment, which he recognized as scramblers. The tracer on his watch and in the backpack, which Cook was holding protectively, would be absolutely useless. He had to depend on the deductive powers of The Titans to find him. He started to work on plans for escape.

"So, now that we got 'im, what are we going to do with 'im boss?" the thug who was driving asked.

"I have many a plan for our little feathered, or, perhaps, de-feathered friend," the Penguin said with a wicked chuckle. "I'd like to see what, exactly, it would take to make this caged bird sing."

"You want him to sing for you?" the thug asked. "Why, he got some kinda great voice or somthin'?"

"No you dolt!" the Penguin said angrily. "Sing like a stool pigeon!"

"I ain't never heard a pigeon sing? Do they got great voices?"

"Gauhhh!" the Penguin squawked in frustration. "I plan to entice him to tell me who the Batman really is!"

"He won't even admit he's Robin," Cook said. "How you gonna get him to tell you that?"

"Oh," the Penguin chortled. "I have my ways."

Dick didn't know what ways those might be. Any types of bribery, brainwashing or simple torture, he was sure he could withstand. Even if the Penguin used crueler tactics, such as threatening or even harming his friends and family, Dick knew he'd be able to keep his mouth shut; because everyone had a better chance of surviving if Bruce was unsuspected and able to save them all. But there were certain forms of interrogation Dick wasn't sure he'd be able to resist: truth serums, computers that monitored brain waves, and telepathic interrogators. He could not take that kind of risk.

They didn't know he was conscious, which meant he would have time. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, forcing the pain into the back part of his mind and collecting his thoughts very carefully. His hands were bound with handcuffs, the heavy, expensive, hard to pick, kind. He twisted his wrists, so that his right hand could reach the cuff of the left arm of his sweater, where he'd sewn a small pewter hook specially made for picking handcuff locks. In less than 30 seconds, his hands were free. That was the easy part.

The simplest, and probably likeliest to succeed, escape plan was to throw open the back doors of the van and jump out. From the feel of the road, they were driving through the city, and not terribly fast. The worse case scenario would be that he'd fall in front of a car, which would hurt, but it would also cause a crash, drawing the attention of the police and, hopefully, the Titans. More likely, he'd be able to jump over any cars that were heading towards him, possibly onto a streetlight or overhanging fire escape. The biggest problems with those escape plans was that they also allowed the Penguin and Cook to escape. True, they'd be able to track them down, but the spontaneity of a Titan attack was key to Dick's plan, and the slightest hints of production and improbability might end up proving Cook's assertion, not debunking it.

He could also manufacture the means of his rescue by disabling the scrambler, but that would take time, and probably draw unwanted attention. If it were simply a matter of kicking the delicate equipment and breaking it, he would have done it in a heartbeat. But they were in plastic casing an inch thick, and there was no way to subtly position himself in a place where he'd have the leverage to break the casing. The other option, trying to turn it off, would also betray the fact he was awake. He couldn't do it without sitting up and looking at the dials, and the second he did that, he'd probably be hit on the head again.

As he tried to think of another option, the van turned sharply, pulled into a dark garage, and stopped.

"Where are we?" Cook asked.

"The nest," the Penguin answered. "Bring the boy."

This was it, Dick realized, his best chance. He could take all four of them down in a fair fight. All he had to do was ignore the pain in his eyes and lungs and the back of his head, and he'd be fine. He lay perfectly still, waiting for the door to open and the action to start.

"Now, use caution," Dick heard the Penguin say. "Our little birds wings may be clipped, but his beak is still sharp."

The door opened slowly and Dick didn't move.

"Looks harmless enough," one of the thugs said.

"Looks can be deceiving," Dick said as he sprang to his feet.

"Auggh!" the Penguin squawked. "The hawk has shrugged his hood!"

"For the last time," Dick said as he threw himself at the Penguin. Physically, Cobblepot was the least dangerous--even Cook would put up a better fight. But his umbrella had all sorts of tricks, like orthochlorobenzalmalononitrile gas and poly fiber nets. It was the most dangerous thing in the room.

He grabbed the Penguin's well-muffled neck with his left and the umbrella with his right. The two crashed onto the ground, the Penguin Gasping, Dick breathing painfully through clenched teeth. "I'm not Robin!"

"Be that as it may," the Penguin spat. "Your goose is still cooked."

Suddenly, all of Dick's muscles tensed as extreme pain, like a continues splash of ice-cold water, and a hundred-thousand little pin-pricks in his flesh, and a consuming fire, and someone pulling on him as if he were elastic, all wrapped up in one, surged through his body. He couldn't move, he couldn't blink, and he couldn't breathe. He knew that he was being electrocuted, and he even managed to figure out that the Penguin's umbrella was the conductor – but he couldn't let it go. After what felt like hours, but was only seconds, the pain stop, and Dick collapsed on top of Cobblepot.

"Impertinent hatchling," the Penguin muttered, throwing the dazed Dick off of him and standing up. "Hawk, Falcon," he said, turning to his henchmen. "Take this infant upstairs and see that he's properly caged."

"Sure thing boss," one of them said, grabbing Dick's shoulders and pulling him up. Dick was too weak to stand and walk, the thugs dragged him along. He was semi-conscious, alert enough to know he was in trouble but there was no way he could have fought.

To Be Continued . . .


	6. Friend in deed

Chapter 5: 

All in all, Dick Grayson had done extremely well – not that any less was ever expected from him. His plan, which was simple, clever and easily adaptable, would have worked if Cook had been honest. But, of course, Dick had known better than expect Cook to be honest, so it would have worked even better with the betrayal. In fact, the only reason it hadn't worked was because the Penguin thought to bring transmission scramblers with protective casing.

It still would work, of course, just not quite as Dick had planed it.

During the attack, Dick did everything he could have. He sensed the danger before it truly manifested itself, and put up a good fight. If he'd had his Robin suit on, he could have easily ended the fight moments after he started it, but Dick was no fool. Any normal kid would run, and, trying to prove he was a normal kid, that's what he did. Even through the tear gas, he managed to run, and he almost made it. Again, had he been Robin, his mask would have protected his eyes, and he would have been able to pull a gas mask off of his belt and continue the fight.

Perhaps what had happened inside the car was the most impressive. While most boys his age would be helpless after prolonged exposure to tear gas and several blows to the head, not to mention having his hands cuffed behind his back, Dick was still able to plan and execute a surprise attack focused on the greatest threat – the Penguin's umbrella. He had no way of knowing that Cobblepot had wired the umbrella to conduct a near lethal voltage of electricity at the flip of a switch. Robin's gloves were made of non-conductive, heat resistant material. He wouldn't have even felt it. Dick Grayson, by comparison, had a bad second degree burn on the palm of his right hand and was probably slipping into shock. Still, it took more to make Dick weak and disoriented than most people could have survived. And to add insult to severe and unjust injury, the Penguin's henchmen, Marcus Tripp and Nathaniel Estada (A.K.A. Hawk and Falcon), made no attempt to be gentle with their wounded hostage. They'd pay for that.

But first things were first.

"So, ah," Cook said nervously as he approached the Penguin. "When am I gonna get my money?"

"When I get Robin," The Penguin answered cagily.

"You got 'im," Cook said. "I practically gift wrapped him!"

"I have a young man of approximately the right age and build who is from Gotham and now lives in San Francisco."

"Did you see the way he fought?! He has to be Robin."

"I saw an athletic young man fight for his life," the Penguin said. "However, I have fought the boy wonder before, and I assure you, he is not as easily subdued as our young Grayson."

"So, how will you know if he's really Robin?"

"I'll know when he gives me Batman," The Penguin said with a wicked chuckle.

"You want me, Penguin," a dark voice said from the depths of the shadows. "I'm right here."

Behind them, the scramblers casing cracked loudly and sparks showered out of the van.

"Dude," Cook gasped, dropping the backpack full of counterfeits – a sign he was truly frightened. "What the hell . . ."

A second later, the Dark Knight swooped upon them.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"He's back!" Cyborg practically yelled.

"Where?" Starfire asked, anxiously looking around. She fully expected Dick Grayson to walk around the corner, whole, unharmed, and laughing at them for losing track of him.

"He's on Russian Hill." Cyborg said.

"Is that far?" the fifth Titan asked.

"No, but on these city streets . . ." Cyborg started.

"We'll have to fly," Raven said.

"How?"

"I got Cyborg," Beast Boy said, screeching as he turned into a giant Pteranodon. He grabbed his friend's shoulders and lifted him up. A black disk formed next to Raven.

"Get on," she ordered, and was obeyed.

"Titans Go!" Cyborg yelled, and they flew off. Starfire trailed behind. She didn't want to, she wanted to lead the charge, but it was very hard to feel the boundless joy of flight when she was so very worried.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dick felt cold. He was going into shock. If he tried hard enough, he'd be able to make it go away. It started by focusing on his breathing, in through the nose, out through the mouth, deeply and steadily. In out. In out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

_Don't close your eyes!_ Dick thought, taking a deep breath and forcing his eyes open. _Don't lose consciousness; don't become helpless._

They'd carried him to a small, upstairs bathroom, and thrown him in the old claw-footed tub. Hawk was sitting on the toilet and Falcon was leaning in the frame of the room's only door. They talked casually about the Gotham Knights playoff chances that year and worked their way through large cigars, using the sink as an ashtray. As the smoke wafted down, Dick couldn't help but breathe it in. He started coughing. The thugs looked at him annoyed, but didn't put out their stogies.

He had to bide his time, Dick told himself, regain his strength, stay alert, look for opportunities. He had to find a way to get out, or, at least break the scramblers and bring the Titan's crashing in. Maybe he could find a phone and dial 911. Maybe he could find a way to signal the neighbors or people passing by on the street. If he could just keep control of his mind and body . . .

It was getting colder. He was trembling, and he couldn't stop. Every once and a while, a leg or an arm would spasm painfully. He was coughing uncontrollably, and each time it hurt more. He was losing control, becoming helpless, and he couldn't stop that either.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"There!" Cyborg yelled, pointing down at a four-story Victorian row house. "He's in there!"

The Titans landed and, without wasting a second on planning or strategy, ran up to the door. Raven's magic tore open the decorative iron gate in front of the door, which Starfire blasted open with her starbeams. They burst into the house and found it dark and empty.

"What do we do now?" Beast Boy asked.

"Split up," Cyborg said. "BB and Ro–" he was interrupted by the chirping of their communicators.

"Perhaps this is Dick Grayson!" Starfire said excitedly, reaching for her communicator.

"He didn't take one," Raven said.

"Then who?" Beast Boy asked.

"Only one way to find out," Cyborg said. "I'll answer, you guys, keep a sharp eye out." He lifted his arm and opened the communications link. He was shocked by what he saw."

"Cyborg," Batman said. Somehow, he managed to be intimidating even through a comm channel. "I'm glad you're here."

"How did you . . .?" Cyborg started.

"On your right is a door that leads to the garage." Batman said, not bothering to acknowledge Cyborg's dumbfounded question. "Meet me there." And he ended his transmission.

"Who was that?" Starfire asked.

"It was the Batman," Cyborg answered. "He wants us to go through this door."

"He what?" Beast Boy asked as Cyborg walked over to the heavy oak door to the right of the entryway. "How does he even know where we are?"

"Because he's here too," Raven said. "And he's been waiting for us."

"Then Dick Grayson is saved?" Starfire asked, her voice was teetering on the edge of joy.

"Only one way to find out," Cyborg said, opening the door.

The garage was dark; the only light came from a small bulb hanging from the ceiling on the other side of the large black van. Still, the figure of the Dark Knight was a swatch of pure black in the gray shadows. He was standing in front of two men, whom he had tied securely in ropes. He looked something like a spider examining the fly's he'd caught in his web.

"Look, I had to, all right!" Cook sobbed. "A guy's gotta eat!"

"Lucky for you, prison serves three meals a day."

"If I'd only had a job . . ."

"Maybe if you'd tried to help Michael O'Lancy, you wouldn't be unemployed."

"Who's Michael O'Lancy?"

"The four-year-old you let drown."

"It's not my job to interfere!"

"It is your job to be a human being," Batman said. "And you didn't pass your last review." Without turning away from his two hostages, Batman called; "Robin, Titans, come in."

Nervously, all five Titans came in. No one bothered to mention that they didn't really have Robin. No one was quite brave enough to correct the Batman.

"No!" Cook gasped, when he saw the young masked man in the red vest and black and yellow cape. "He, he can't . . ."

Batman smiled; the temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. "Robin, come here."

The boy in the mask obeyed. Batman turned to look at him as if addressing this boy was the most natural thing in the world, as if he'd done it every day for years and years and they were so close that speaking was, to a point, superfluous. He did speak, however. "This is the man that threatened Grayson?"

"Yeah," the Robin said, nodding coolly. "We tried to track him, but . . ."

"They had scramblers," Batman said, nodding to the ruins of the equipment in the van.

"Where's Grayson?" the Robin asked.

"Upstairs," Batman said. "I'll see to him. You, Cyborg and Beast Boy stay here and keep an eye on the fouls."

"You got it boss," the Robin said coolly, nodding to Cyborg and Beast Boy to join them in the garage.

"Excuse me, Mr. scary, shadowy, The Batman," Starfire said meekly. "But what are Raven and I to do?"

"Follow me," he said, walking past the girls and back into the house. Raven followed without hesitation. Starfire whimpered softly as he walked past her and looked towards the boys.

"Go on," the Robin said supportively. "He's the good guy."

She nodded. Swallowing her fear and building up her courage, turned and followed.

"This is all your fault, Cook," The Penguin muttered once Batman was gone. "If you had not lead me astray I would be back in Gotham right now, making money hand over feather at my nightclub, instead of tied up in a garage and being guarded by prepubescent fledglings!"

"But . . ." Cook started.

"The bird you tampered me with was nothing but a decoy. You can be sure you will pay dearly for this humiliation."

"No," Cook said loudly, "You can't! I mean, he can't really be Robin. Dick Grayson is Robin, and Dick Grayson is . . . ."

"Is not Robin," the Robin interrupted coolly. "I'm sure Batman will bring him down in a second so you can both get a good, front row seat to see us co-exist."

"You know what I think?" Cook asked. "I think he freed you, and then came in here and got us, while you changed and called your friends, and then you came in and now he's just pretending to free Grayson!"

"Beast Boy," the Robin said.

Beast Boy, who was a huge green tiger at the moment, turned and looked at the Robin.

"If either of them talks any more, you have my permission to maul them."

The tiger purred and an expression that looked like a smile spread across his deadly jaw.

Batman paused at the foot of the stairs. "There are two guards," he told them in a harsh whisper. "I'll take them out. Don't move until I tell you."

"Shall I provide us with light?" Starfire asked softly as she looked up at the darkness that seemed to be creeping down the stairway.

"No," he answered. "And don't make a sound."

Batman walked up the dark staircase silently. Raven followed, levitating. Starfire flew behind them, trying to be as silent as possible. Her heart was pounding so loudly she was sure the dark and frightening Batman would hear it and scold her, perhaps by turning into a gigantic red-eyed, black-skinned demon that would attack them like a Dormovian Mud Gollog, or perhaps he would simply abandon them, alone and unaided in the dark, scary stairway, to face whatever monsters where holding Richard Grayson hostage.

They crept silently up two flights of stairs. As they reached the third floor, Starfire could hear voices. Two men were talking about a grand slam which led to nights running home and slidings that were called safes. Starfire wondered if it was some sort of code. She could also hear someone coughing weakly.

They walked onto the third floor hallway, and saw a light coming from a door at the end of it. The shadow of one of the men was cast on the wall. He looked big. Starfire was about to ask if they ought to attack when Batman held his hand out, clearly signaling that they should stay put. He continued forward, approaching the light cautiously as if he expected it to burn him. Then, when he was at the edges of the light, he reached over to the man leaning in the doorway and, with a quick and effortless movement, he hit the man, knocking him out and sending him crashing to the floor. Another large man jumped out of the light at the Batman, who dodged a punch before slicing his assailant neatly on the collarbone. The second man hit the floor harder than the first.

The sudden, unpredictable violence started Starfire, and she wanted to scream, but before that impulse fully manifested itself, the action was over and two men lay unconscious at the Batman's feet. "He is frightening," Starfire whispered in Raven's ear.

"He's powerful," Raven answered quietly. "But he wouldn't hurt us."

"How do you . . ." she started, but was silenced when he turned to look at them.

"Come here," he ordered.

Raven obeyed without hesitation, Starfire approached more slowly.

"He's in the bathtub," Batman said as Raven reached the door.

"Richard Grayson is in that room?!" Starfire asked anxiously, conquering her fear of the Batman and stepping forward. "Is he well? May I see him?

"He's injured," Batman said flatly.

"Injured!" Starfire said. "Please, Mr. the Batman, may I go to him?"

Turning to Raven, he continued. "He was exposed to tear gas, received several blows on the head, and was electrocuted. He's probably going into shock and his right hand is badly burned. Do what you can."

Raven nodded, turned, and walked into the room. Batman followed. Star felt overwhelmed. She was afraid to follow them into the lit room, where she had not been invited. But she was also afraid to stay in the hall, with the darkness and unconscious men. Most off all, she was afraid that, if she didn't see Richard Grayson soon, she would never see him again, as if every second that passed stole him further and further away.

"Please," she begged softly. "Let me see Richard Grayson."

Batman paused at the door, turned and looked at her. "You can come in," he told her.

"Thank you," she said gratefully, approaching the door. Her concern for Dick overcame her fear of the Batman, as she took her place next to him and watched.

Dick was hunched in the bathtub, coughing and shaking. His beautiful sky-blue eyes were glazed over, unfocused and the whites were bright red while his skin was ashen gray.

"I didn't know you were co—" he coughed, "coming." He said, looking at the Batman. Even thought he was damaged and weak and his voice was horse and laced with pain, he wasn't afraid of the powerful shadow.

"Dick," Raven said walking closer to him. "I want you to look in my eyes."

"All right," he said.

She knelt down in front of the bathtub so they were eye to eye, reached over and her hand on his chest. He continued to cough as a soft white glow spread from Raven's hand across his body.

"Azarath metrion zynthos," Raven muttered as soon as the simmer covered Dick from head to toe. The boy gasped and convulsed as the light flashed, momentarily blinding Starfire. She blinked, and when she could see again she saw Raven, leaning against the edge of the bathtub, panting, and Dick, looking much better, hovering over her with concern.

"Raven," he said gently. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," the girl gasped. "You, on the other hand, were not doing well."

"Thank you," he said genuinely as he took her arms and helped her stand up.

Had they been alone, this would have been the moment Starfire rushed forward and enveloped Richard Grayson in an adoring hug. She wanted to touch him, feel that he was, indeed, solid and real. All the fear and suspense seemed to be broken, suddenly, in that flash of light, and she wanted to cry for joy. But they were not alone. The dark, heavy presences of Batman kept Starfire's more joyful instincts in check. She dared not move without his permission.

"Starfire," the Batman said. "Help Raven out into the hall and contact the police."

"But, what . . ." Starfire started, glancing at Richard Grayson.

Batman turned to look at her. Even though most of his face was covered with a mask, he still managed to glare at her with a frightening intensity. She understood that he did not want to answer questions, he just wanted to be obeyed, and he had very little tolerance for those who would second guess him. Starfire, however, had reached the point at which she no longer cared. She needed to know that Richard Grayson would be all right, even if that meant a confrontation with the huge shadow before her.

"What will you do with Richard Grayson?" she continued forcefully.

Batman continued to stare at her. She was not sure, and she doubted it very much, but she thought she saw a smile twitch on the corner of his mouth for just a second.

"Star . . ." Dick started.

She turned to look at him, continuing her argument. "He is frightening, and can hurt people too quickly, with no noise and no way to fight back. I do not want to leave you with him now that you finally are safe."

"Star, it's ok," Dick assured her. "He won't hurt us. I'm not afraid of him, and you don't have to be either."

Starfire wanted to protest; how could anyone who was so dark and menacing be good? She turned quickly to look at the Batman. If there had been a smile, it was gone now. His gaze was, once again, steady and disapproving. But he seemed content to let them work this out on their own. She suddenly realized that, if she refused to leave, he would not force her. He would disappear into the shadows and, whatever business he had wanted to conduct with Richard Grayson, who was really Robin, his sidekick and protégé, would be left undone. "Raven and I will leave," Starfire told the Dark Knight. "And contact the police."

He didn't answer, which she didn't really expect him to. Instead, she walked over to Raven, and put her weakened friend's arm over her shoulder. For a second, her eyes met Richard Grayson's sparkling blue eyes, and she could see _thank you_ written in them with perfect clarity. She led Raven out of the room, and back into the dark hallway where the two men still lay unconscious.

"Do you think these men will be all right?" she asked with a hushed voice.

"I'm sure they will be," Raven said as she eased herself to the ground and folded her legs to begin a quick, regenerating mediation. "The Batman doesn't kill."

"Then, perhaps we should bind them, somehow," Starfire continued. "In case they wake up."

"I don't think we need to worry about that either," Raven said as her body slowly rose about a foot off the ground. "Just call the cops."

"I will," Starfire said, opening her communicator and setting it to the special police band line. "Hello," she said, once the other line had been opened. "This is Starfire of the Teen Titans and I wish to report a kidnapping we have discovered."

"You took out the scramblers," Dick said, before Batman could start his berating. "You brought the Titans here. You saved me."

"You would have saved yourself," Batman said, "eventually."

"Right," Dick nodded. "Between my inability to breathe or control my muscles, I'm sure it was just a matter of time."

"You were ambushed."

"I knew I was going to be," Dick said. "It's no excuse."

Batman didn't respond. Instead, he said, "Speedy's a little tall to be Robin, even if he is wearing a very convincing wig. And a voice comparison would unveil the truth."

"We thought about using a hologram," Dick said. "Cyborg could have projected it. But there were too many variables. We needed someone who could react naturally to any situation."

"So, he knows who you are."

"He had to."

"My next conversation with Green Arrow should be interesting."

"He won't tell," Dick said, looking the Batman in the eyes for the first time. "None of them ever would."

"That doesn't matter," the Batman said. His tone was as hard and heavy as a rock, it would have been pointless to argue.

There was a long, cold, stretch of silence. Finally, Dick said; "So, are you going to order me back to Gotham?"

"Would you come if I did?" the Batman asked.

Dick didn't answer; he didn't know how too. He hated submitting to Bruce's unreasonable, and even his reasonable, orders on principal, but it had never really occurred to him that he would, or could, directly disobey one. Even if Batman ordered him back to Gotham, it would be perfectly legitimate for him to stay. He was doing a lot of good in San Francisco. He was making a real difference, the kind he couldn't make in Gotham, because in Gotham he was always in Batman's shadow. Without him, the Titans would be disorganized at best, perhaps even useless, and the city would be left vulnerable. The Hive, or some other villains, could make their move, and there would be no one with the strength to protect the city. It would, in many ways, be irresponsible for him to go back to Gotham just because Bruce was on one of his controlling power trips and wanted everyone and everything under his thumb. But then, as much as he wanted and needed to be his own person, he also wanted and needed to have Batman and Bruce's approval. Maybe, someday, Dick would feel strong enough, confident enough, righteous enough, to go against an order, but today wasn't that day. Even though the very thought of it graded against his sprit, making him even more angry and disappointed with himself, the fact was, if he was ordered, he would go.

But it didn't come to that. It was almost as if Batman could sense the struggle going on inside his young protégé, and wanted to spare the boy, who'd already gone though so much that night, another humiliation. "Would you come if I asked you?"

Dick met the Batman's masked eyes, "If you asked me?"

"Raven's healing powers are good, but they're not perfect. You're still weak."

Dick didn't bother to ask how Batman knew the intricacies of his friends powers, it only mattered that he was right. Though the young man could stand, think clearly and breathe without coughing, he still felt weak and unsteady, breathing hurt, his eyes stung, and the flesh on his right hand was raw and sensitive.

"You should see a doctor," Batman continued. "One you can trust."

"Yeah," Dick said noncommittally.

"And you need rest."

"I don't need anyone to take care of me."

"If I thought you did, I'd suggest you stay here," Batman countered. "Starfire looked more then willing to be your nursemaid. Alfred, on the other hand . . . "

Dick laughed softly. As always, Bruce was right. If he'd felt any stronger, or wanted anything more than lying on his soft four-post bed in Wayne manor with the guarantee of eggs made just the way he liked them and freshly squeezed orange juice for breakfast, he probably would have been annoyed. But at the moment, he was glad the world as he knew it hadn't really changed, and that he had a home to go to when he needed one. "I'll come."

For the second time, a smile almost found its way onto the Batman's lips. But when he spoke his voice as cool and detached as ever. "When the police get here, you'll have to go with them. Bruce Wayne will arrange to have you escorted to the airport from the station and you'll take the first available flight to Gotham."

"Sure," Dick said.

"Alfred will pick you up and take you straight to Leslie."

"It'll be nice to see her."

"I'm sure she'll say the same about you," Batman said as sirens started wailing in the distance. "That would be the police. You need to get down stairs."

"And you need to disappear," Dick said, climbing carefully out of the tub. His head swam whenever he moved it, but that was infinity better than the explosive pain that had filled it earlier. "I guess I'll see you in the morning."

"Maybe we'll have breakfast together," Batman said, "if you're not too tired."

"That sounds good," Dick said, smiling at the thought of breakfast with Bruce. Alfred would serve them, pretending they were just lazy aristocrats and hadn't earned their keep with a night of crime-fighting, while the two vigilantes discussed the night in suggestive hints and innuendos, trying to make the proper butler drop his immaculate façade. Alfred played very well, usually commenting on the occurrences of the last night in vague allusions that could be interpreted quite placidly, if you didn't know he was saying them tongue-in-cheek, but Bruce almost always won their little game, making Alfred gasp or click his tongue in reproof and betray that they had risked their lives the night before, and were lucky to be eating breakfast at all.

"See you in Gotham, then," Dick said as he carefully climbed out of the tub. He made a point not to look at Bruce as he sunk into his dark shadows, and walked out of the bathroom without saying Goodbye; he knew how much Batman hated that word.

THE END

**Note:** Thanks everybody for reading and reviewing. There will an epilog to tie up some loose ends, but there won't be a sequel, so don't even ask. But thanks again – I hope you enjoyed the story as much as I enjoyed the reviews.


	7. Epilog

**Epilog:** (kinda)

Speedy hoped Robin didn't have a warm, cordial relationship with any of these cops. He hoped none of these flat-foots, which he'd never seen before, were wondering why the Boy Wonder was suddenly ignoring them, or, possibly, why he was being so chatty. He'd been told that Robin was sort of the spokesman for the group. When there was talking with officials to be done, he was the one to do it, but Speedy didn't know if Robin was a cagey spokesman, letting only the most necessary bits of information out, or a verbose spokesman, who eagerly shared more than requested of him.

"Holy Margarita," One of the cops, a detective, if his sloppy suite was any indication, said, looking ant the two securely bound prisoners lying on the floor. "Is that who I think it is?"

"Only if you think it's Gotham's nefarious Penguin," Speedy answered. He wondered if he should make a pun. Would it be obvious he was trying too hard? The word foul had a lot of possibilities, but then, it was so obvious, and the only way Robin got away his overuse of puns was that most of them were so subtle no one noticed.

"I'm detective Mayar," the man in the sloppy suit said, holding out his hand for Robin to shake. Speedy breathed a sigh of relief, apparently, this man didn't know Robin, and he wouldn't notice any minor discrepancies, such as a lack of puns. "What happened, Starfire said something about a kidnapping."

"Extortion and blackmail," Speedy corrected. "This guy is Emil Cook. He got it in his head that Dick Grayson was me. He said, if I didn't play him a million dollars, he'd expose that identity to Gotham's underworld."

"I'm guessing you didn't pay," Mayar said.

"Actually, I did," Speedy said, walking over to the yellow backpack. He picked it up, unzipping it as he carried it to Mayar. "One million in unmarked bills."

Mayar whistled.

"Don't get too excited, detective," Raven's dry voice said from the doorway. "Those bills are counterfeit."

"Counterfeit?" Mayar asked, turning to her. "Where did you get . . . ?"

"It was confiscated by Batman in Gotham," Speedy explained. "He kindly let Grayson use it."

"Yeah, Grayson, was he the kidnapped party?"

"Yes," a new voice said. Speedy turned around and smiled. Dick Grayson, the real Robin, was coming down the stairs. He looked much the worse for wear, his skin had a grayish tint to it, and his legs didn't quite look sturdy underneath him. His breathing wasn't really labored, but neither was it quite natural; it almost seemed as if every breath hurt him, but he was determined not to alter his breathing pattern.

"I'm guessing you're Grayson," Mayar said, turning to Dick.

"Yeah," Dick said, smiling feebly as he rubbed the back of his head. For a second, Speedy was struck by how boyish Dick looked, not brave or noble or strong, but just like a kid out of place.

"NO!" Cook yelled. The officers had untied the two criminals, cuffed them, read them their rights, and were now leading them out of the garage towards the paddy wagon. "Dick Grayson is Robin! I have proof!"

"Stop your squawking," the Penguin grumbled. "You're bird-brained delusions have already found us caged."

"Excuse me," Dick said to Mayar as he walked toward Cook and the Penguin. Speedy followed, trying not to smirk too much at Cook's flabbergasted expression.

"I'm not Robin," Dick said coolly, looking Cook right in the eyes.

"No," Speedy said, shaking his head. "He's definitely not."

"But, but the picture!" Cook gasped.

"Don't believe everything you see," Dick said seriously. "This time, you missed the target."

"You shouldn't have threatened us, Cook," Speedy said, shaking his head. A pun suddenly popped into his head, it wasn't as good as Dick's had been, not as subtle or full of meaning, but still, he couldn't help but smile as he said; "Now you're fried."

"Wait, wait, wait," Mayar said, stepping up the trio. "This whole thing is very confusing, can someone please give me a straight story."

Speedy hesitated, he was the superhero, he was the one used to dealing with criminals and police commissioners, he was, by all rights, the one who should have told the story. But, unfortunately, he didn't know it. Sure, Dick had given him a very detailed account of everything, but Speedy knew the cop would ask about something Robin had glazed over, some tiny detail that wasn't really important, except for the fact that it would distinguish one who was really there form one who had only heard a description.

But before Speedy could worry too much about it, Dick step forward and answered. "It's all about this piece of paper," he said, pulling the print-out of the doctored pictures from one of the many pockets of his cargo pants and handing it to Mayar. "Cook took the pictures and made the composite. He jumped to a speedy conclusion."

"Jeepers," Mayer said, looking from Speedy to Dick. "You guys could be brothers."

"I could have just turned Cook in for blackmail," Speedy said, feeling he had to add something. "But for Grayson's protection, I needed to make it very clear, publicly, that we were not the same person, so I conscripted him into our plan."

"Did you two know each other before this?" Mayar asked. His tone of voice made it clear he was asking out of personal, not professional, curiosity.

"We ran into each other in Gotham," Dick said, once again sparing Speedy from having to guess at what the correct answer would be. "I owe Robin a lot," Dick continued. "He found my parents' murderer."

"It's what I do," Speedy said, sounding casual. He wondered if Dick felt as odd and out of place in this situation as he did.

"Yeah, well, I'm sure Mr. Grayson here isn't the only one who's grateful to you kids," Mayar said. "Don't know where this city would be without you."

"I quiver to think," Dick said, smiling ironically. Speedy smiled too; not just at the pun, but if anyone in the city would know how close and how often it was on the brink of distraction, it would be Dick.

"Do you need any more information on this case, Detective?" Speedy asked. He hoped he wasn't being suspiciously rude, but then, Batman and Robin didn't have the reputation of being charmers.

"Nah, nah," Mayar said, waving his hand dismissively. "I'm sure you've got important stuff to do, and it sounds like Grayson has all the evidence we'll need."

"He does," Speedy said, turning to Dick. Their eyes met and both boys smiled. "Good luck," Speedy said, sticking his hands out.

Dick grabbed it and shook it warmly. "Thanks," he said, catching everything in that simple phrase: thanks for coming to San Francisco, thanks for finding me when I got lost, thanks for playing the part, thanks for saving my life.

"My pleasure," Speedy said. "I'm sure our paths will cross again."

"I sure hope so," Dick answered.

"Ok, Titans," Speedy said, yelling at his teammates, "time to go."

The Titans followed him out of the now-opened garage door. Speedy noticed that Cyborg and Raven didn't bat an eye at the command, and didn't stop for one last look at Dick Grayson. Beast Boy didn't hesitate to leave, but he couldn't help but stare at Grayson before he went, as if to assure himself that the boy really was Robin, and that Robin really was all right. Starfire was the last to leave. She paused as she passed Dick and Detective Mayar. She looked at her friend longingly, as if she had many things she wanted to say, and yet, couldn't find a single word.

"Star," Speedy said. "We're leaving."

"I am glad you are unharmed, Richard Grayson," Starfire said. She was cramming a well of emotion into that simple phrase, and it sounded as if she would have gotten more in there, if she'd known how to.

"Thank you Starfire," Dick responded. "I'm so glad you came to save me."

"I was not the one to do the saving," Starfire said.

Dick smiled at her, "If that's the case, then maybe I'm just glad you came."

"Star!" Speedy said.

"Good bye, Richard Grayson," Star said, turning around quickly before her emotions could burst out again.

Speedy nodded one last time at Dick and the detective, before turning and exiting into the dark night, where the rest of the Titans waited.

"I don't know about you guys," Speedy said, "But that was a great night of do-gooding."

"With the exception of that period of time where we lost the person we were supposed to be protecting and he nearly died," Raven said dryly.

"Everything turned out all right in the end," Beast Boy pointed out. "How about some celebratory pizza with our newest Robin?"

"I could go for some pizza," Cyborg said. "With pepperoni and sausage."

"Meat, you've got to be kidding me!" Beast Boy said.

As the argument continued, Speedy leaned over to Raven. "Are they always like this?"

"Always," she answered.

"We usually just get the gooey four-cheese," Starfire told him. "It tastes very good with mustard."

Speedy tried, unsuccessfully, not to make a face at the thought of mustard cheese pizza.

"She doesn't put it on the pizza," Raven assured him.

"On the crust?"

"She drinks it."

Again, he had to struggle not to make a face.

"You would probably like to stop being Robin soon, would you not?" Starfire asked. "Perhaps it would be pleasant to be yourself."

"Yeah," Speedy said. "It'd be nice to get this wig off, and this mask. How can he stand wearing something so big?"

"It has never occurred to me to ask him," Starfire confessed. "Come to think of it, there are a great many things I never have thought to ask him."

"You'll have a chance when he gets back," Speedy told her.

"Yes," Starfire said, nodding with assurance. "I will."

END (kinda)

Note: Ok, the reviews made it pretty clear that some of you didn't catch on to what would happen next (all my fault, I get so into the Batman Mythos that I sometimes forget that not everyone knows their Arthur Browns from the Edward Nigmas) so they'll probably be another epilog (an epi-epilog, a post-epilog, perhaps?). But, I warn you in advance, it's gonna be all romantic.


End file.
